Torn
by dark angel121
Summary: Torn. To tear apart. To divide or disrupt. This is a tale of war, of lovers wanting nothing more than time with each other, and of the courage that lies dormant in even the weakest of men. What is on the surface does not often mirror what is underneath.
1. A Stolen Kiss

Torn Chapter 1

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Disclaimer: All characters are of course not mine and belong to J.K. Rowling

Author's notes: Just for those who might get a tad bit confused in the beginning of this: The paragraphs in **bold** are words from Harry's mind, and those in _italics_ are from Hermione's mind. Once Hermione's final thought ends, the true story begins.

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**I didn't mean for it to happen. It was sort of a spur of the moment kind of thing. I wasn't imposing anything, just comforting. I was comforting her. I wasn't prepared for the consequences.**

_I was foolish. I had made such a scene. I bet everyone had heard me from the Gryffindor common room all the way down to the Great Hall. But I couldn't help it. It hurt so badly. What do you expect a person to do when she receives an unwanted letter? How do you expect a person to feel when her greatest fear has come true in the worst possible way? Now the situation is far worse._

**Her parents are dead. Like mine. Yet their deaths had a bigger impact. She had known her parents, unlike me. She had spent each waking day of her childhood with them. Unlike me. And it's all my fault. She's one of my best friends, and because of that she has to suffer.**

_It isn't his fault. It was never his fault, and yet he still blames himself. But I can't deny the fact that because of this, because of my parents' death, the unspeakable happened._

**I kissed her. I didn't mean to. At least I think I didn't mean to. I was just filled with so much emotion at that moment. What she had said angered me, and I wanted to make her understand. I guess there's no excuse. The truth is, I've loved her ever since fifth year. The moment I thought I'd lost her, I knew. I knew that if she died, a part of me would have died with her. I realized how important Hermione is to me. I love her. I really do, and that night I guess I just couldn't keep those feelings hidden from her any longer.**

_We were waiting for Ron, who was still out for Quiddich practice. We were alone, both silent. I was just feeling too much at the moment for any words. I guess he didn't know what to say. Well, what does one say when one's best friend's parents just died because of their friendship? _

_I didn't know what to think, or to say. I didn't know what to feel. All I felt at that moment was anger towards You-know-who for killing them, anger towards Harry for unconsciously making me feel the way I do for him. Angry at Harry for taking them away. Angry at myself for feeling this way, and blaming Harry for my misfortune. They were innocent and because Harry was my best friend, because I cared for him, and challenged You-know-who, they were taken from me._

**We were sitting in the armchairs, just the two of us. Her staring at the fire, me staring, transfixed at her.**

_I remember feeling his eyes on me. We were silent. What was there to say?_

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The common room was silent, save for the sound of the fire crackling in the hearth. The dancing light bathed the dark, quiet room, and cast eerie shadows. One of the shadows shifted. Harry Potter, sitting in a large armchair, turned to look at the flames rather than having to stare at the figure sitting before him.

Hermione Granger's eyes bore into the fire, obviously in deep thought. The silence in the common room was uncomfortable.

Harry, wanting to break the ice, tried to speak first.

"Hermione," he began, but was cut off from the intense stare of his best friend's eyes. She had never looked at him like that. Such sadness emanated from her eyes, such confusion and loss that Harry never knew existed within her made him forget what he was going to say and just stare wonderingly and worryingly into those brown orbs.

Her eyes shimmered slightly and she blinked back tears, once again turning towards the fire.

They were silent; Harry couldn't speak. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to do, so he just stayed silent and stared at the dancing, crackling flames. He sighed inwardly.

_I'm sorry Hermione. I'm sorry for being your friend. I'm sorry for dragging you into this. I'm sorry for your parent's deaths. I'm sorry for everything you had to go through because of me. I'm sorry for loving you, and I'm sorry for not being able to let you go. I'm sorry Hermione. I'm so sorry. _Harry thought to himself in anguish. He looked up at her, and voiced his thoughts.

"I'm sorry." he croaked.

The sound of his voice broke the uncomfortable silence that hung over them.

Hermione turned her head to face him. Gone were the sad, lonely eyes, now replaced with sudden anger and disbelief.

"You're _sorry_?" Hermione's voice came out in a harsh whisper. A jumble of emotions flew across her face, from despair, to anger, disbelief, then wrath. Her voice rose as she slowly stood. "You're sorry?!"

"Hermione-" Harry's voice was edged with pain and confusion.

Hermione cut him off. "Is that supposed to make everything better? You're sorry? Is that supposed to make all the bad things go away? Are they now supposed to miraculously rise from the dead because the strong and mighty Harry Potter says he's sorry?!"

"Hermione, I know you're going through a lot right now. I know that you might think that you're alone, and that you have no one who knows what you're going through, but I know how you're feeling and I-"

"No Harry, you can't even fathom an inkling of what I'm feeling right now. You go through life with a sad story over your head. 'Oh, I'm Harry Potter, my parents were murdered before my eyes. I miss them so much, I really do!'

Well boo fucking hoo. You have no idea what it's like to miss your parents. You never even knew them! Sure you miss having them around. Sure you wonder what your life would have been like if they were alive, but you never grew up with them. You never depended on them. You never saw them at every waking moment of your life. You never got to know them! So don't tell me that you how I am feeling right now, Harry James Potter because you don't! You have no _idea_ what it's like to lose someone you love."

"Now that's where you're wrong, Granger," Harry snarled.

During her speech, he had stood up and walked over to her. Now the two of them were standing face to face, dangerously close.

Hermione's hands were balled into fists. Tears were streaming down her face, and during her speech she had continuously and angrily brushed them away.

Harry knew that she really didn't mean to say all of those things. He knew that later on when she cooled down, she would regret the words that had come out of her mouth. Yet knowing this, he still felt angry. And in his anger, he only loved her more.

His green eyes sparked with barely uncontrolled rage. He took another step towards her, towering over her.

Hermione took an involuntary step back, feeling slightly intimidated and scared. She had never seen Harry this angry before, and it scared her.

"I may not know what it feels like to lose my parents because frankly, I never had the _pleasure _of actually living with them, knowing them, seeing their smiles, or hearing them laugh. God, Hermione, I never even got to talk to them!"

His eyes darted to the floor and he frantically ran a trembling hand through his hair. "But I _do _know what it feels like to lose someone I care about. I do know what it feels like to have your heart ripped from your body. I know what it feels like to have your very soul ravaged and torn to shreds. I know the feeling of unbearable sadness and utter despair that at times I want to end my life just to get the chance to see the ones I love again. Just to have one last glimpse of their face, or hear their voice. I _know _that feeling. I have drowned myself in that feeling time and time again." Harry's voice now pent up with raw emotion, broke and he just stared hard at her before he continued.

"Sirius was like a father to me," he said. "He was everything that I couldn't have. Everything that I've always wanted. And when I thought I had lost you in the Department of Mysteries, I just-" His voice choked up and he couldn't go on. He looked down at his feet.

Hermione swallowed hard. She felt her anger ebbing away, only to be replaced with shame.

"Harry…" she began, but was cut off when he once again looked into her eyes. The angry sparks were gone. The piteous look had disappeared. His eyes were now filled with sadness, understanding, and something else that she couldn't make out. They sparkled with unshed tears and looked into hers so intently that she could not force to tear herself away from his gaze.

Harry took a step closer to her and placed his hand on her cheek. His touch burned her and she broke his gaze and looked away, but couldn't manage to step back and away from his intoxicating presence.

She could still feel his eyes boring into her, and felt his hand trace delicately down to her chin to tilt her head up.

Hermione was lost in a sea of green.

"You have no right Hermione," he said in a broken whisper. The light of the flames danced off the two of them, casting tall shadows in the room. Hermione swallowed.

"No right at all." he repeated.

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry."

Harry shook his head.

"No."

He ignored the silent question in her eyes.

"I am."

And he kissed her.


	2. Remember When

**Disclaimer:** I of course do not owe any of these wonderful characters except of course for two death eaters who some might find interesting in later chapters if I decide to continue this based on feedback.

**A/N:** Wow. I got some amazing feed back on this. I was actually pretty surprised. All those reviews proved quite a lot actually: You're all insane. But I guess my writing is actually pretty good. Thank you all _so_ much for the reviews. I'm so sorry it took a REALLY long time to get this posted. I've been through so many betas, and somehow I know that this will still have some mistakes.

Now a reminder to some of you, that I am more of an action/adventure kind of girl so that bit will tend to pop up every now and then in this story. I assure you all however that this is a romance (much to the horror of my action/adventure buddies) with a dash of drama. So I hope you'll all enjoy this chapter, and please keep the reviews coming.

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Torn Chapter 2: Remember When

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**Flashback**

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"Do you have them?"

"Y-yes my lord."

Heavy footfalls strode purposefully across the marble floors of the Kareen mansion; while another pair of anxious feet hurriedly shuffled after.

"Was it delivered?"

"She should have received it yesterday, my lord."

It had been two days since the last living member of the town walked freely. Now all of them were under his control. It had been too easy. Once he had power over the Kareens, the most powerful family in the town, the others were easy to break. It was all a matter of control.

Death Eaters roamed the once safe streets, taking great pleasure in doing whatever they wanted with the townspeople. There were those who bullied, while some killed, and when they'd become extremely bored, they would do much more. The anguished screams never seemed to stop.

Wormtail shuddered as the said sound echoed in the halls, soon followed by uncontrollable, ecstatic laughter. A few minutes later, a woman in a daze stumbled out from the darkness behind a column. Tears streaked her pale face, and her eyes, glazed over in confusion, darted back and forth as she continued to clutch at what was left of her clothing. Voldemort sighed.

"Collins, if you must continue to satisfy these tiresome appetites of yours, do so but not in my presence."

"Yes, m'lord. Forgive me."

At a twitch of the Dark lord's finger, the tall Death Eater bowed his head and left. Wormtail watched him go, not noticing his master continuing on without him.

"Is there anyone with them?"

Turning back, he noticed that he was lagging behind, and he scurried to catch up.

"Er, Weber is, my lord."

The dark lord's face was blank, save for a hint of satisfaction in his smouldering eyes.

It was a while before Wormtail managed to obtain the courage and ask the one question that had been boiling inside him for too long.

"M-My Lord -if I may ask- er, why not just take the Potter boy by force?"

The Dark Lord never broke his stride, but his eyes darted to glare at his servant. Wormtail shrank back under the cold stare.

"F-F-Forgive me, my lord. I-I never meant to-"

"Silence Wormtail. With that fool Dumbledore hovering over his back all the time, there would be no chance of even touching the boy. But there are other ways, Wormtail. There are other ways."

Up ahead, Wormtail could now make out the doors that shut in the prisoners. His newly obtained silver fingers twitched in anticipation. The last time he had seen the muggles that were kept in the room, he had lain in bed for a week not daring to close his eyes. For if he had closed them, sleep would come and the nightmares would take him.

"If you can't attack the body, one must attack the heart," Voldemort continued. Wormtail swallowed.

"And who Wormtail, are close to the boy's heart?"

Wormtail's eyes darted to the floor; his mind taking in what his master was telling him. "His friends." he whispered.

Thin lips formed into a satisfied smile, one that did not reach the eyes.

"Precisely."

The tall, ivory doors inlaid with gold loomed over them. A pair of death eaters bowed as the doors swung open.

The sudden onslaught of light piercing the never-ending darkness of the room made Mrs. Granger cry out in pain and fright. She knew what was to come. Clutching her husband's head to her chest and rocking back and forth she shouted, "Who are you?! Why are you doing this?! Oh god, Ted please wake up!"

She held Ted tighter and wailed her protests as invisible hands pried her away from her slowly waking husband. They were shackled.

Wormtail dared not to look at the beaten and bloodied sight of them. But his ears could not block out the horror. It was a wonder that the woman could still force out coherent words let alone scream bloody murder in such desperation.

"Good morning, Mrs. Granger, Mr. Granger. I hope our accommodations are to your liking." He heard his master mock the muggles cowering on the cold, hard floor. "Leave, Marcus. The Gangers have endured their stay long enough."

"Whatever you want. W-we'll give you whatever you want. Just let us go." The once proud woman pleaded.

"You see how easy it is, Wormtail?" The Dark lord continued, ignoring Mrs. Granger's futile protests. The same predatory smile was plastered on his lips.

Wormtail forced himself to lift his head and look at his master.

"The boy is already in my grasp."

And the heavy doors shut behind the Dark Lord, leaving Wormtail out in the brightly lit hallway. He winced as the screams of death, not at all muffled behind closed doors, rang in his ears. Shivering uncontrollably, he walked away.

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"Checkmate!" Ron announced happily.

Harry groaned. "Hermione, remind me again why I agreed to this?"

Hermione looked up from her _Muggle Studies _book with a smile on her face. "Because you're a git who accepts any challenge given to you, even knowing that you're bound to lose."

Ron laughed and Harry raised his eyebrows at her answer.

"You do know that when I asked that question, all you were supposed to do was smile and shake your head, right?"

Green eyes met brown as Hermione replied, "Yes, well, I'm feeling quite daring today."

"Hey Hermione, what do you say to a game of exploding snap?" Ron asked. "Thanks, but no thanks Ron. I intend to keep what's left of my eyebrows intact."

"Oh, come on Hermione. Just one game. You've been reading that book all day."

"No, leave it Harry. I reckon that once we grab a bucket of water, she'll come along."

Hermione sniffed at the boys' teasing laughter. "Honestly, Ron, that was one time."

"And you looked like the bleeding ghost of Christmas yet to come." Ron chuckled. "Scared the hell out of poor Neville too. I never knew hair could catch fire so quickly." Harry smiled.

"For one thing, it wasn't my hair, it was my robes, Harry James Potter. Now the both of you, wipe those smiles off your faces." Hermione huffed while placing her book down with as much dignity as she could muster. "Well? Are we going to play or not?"

Ron rolled up his maroon sleeves, and whispered, "Bet you mum's chocolate that her eyebrows will come clean off this time."

Hermione scowled, "Ron Weasley, if you say one more thing about that accident I'll-"

"Ms. Granger," Professor McGonagall had swooped in upon them and peering down at Hermione, face grim, she said, "If you will come with me. The headmaster wants a word with you."

Surprised, Hermione quickly glanced at Harry and Ron before promptly getting up and following the transfiguration teacher.

"I wonder what that's all about." Ron muttered.

"Dunno." Harry answered as they both watched the pair of them leave the Great Hall.

Portraits of past headmasters surrounded her, and its occupants were snoozing away. Professor Dumbledore sat at his desk and he held a piece of parchment in his hands. He frowned at its contents and mumbled to himself. Looking up, he bathed Hermione in a warm, yet sad smile as he stood up to greet her.

"Ah, Miss Granger. It's good to see you again. Please, sit down."

Hermione did as she was told and sat in the seat before the headmaster's desk. She noted that Dumbledore's usually twinkling blue eyes now mirrored the sadness and seriousness of the situation. She forced herself not to fidget in nervousness and placed her hands neatly folded on her lap.

"Miss Granger, you are one of the most intelligent and hard working students that Hogwarts has had in these many years," Dumbledore began.

Hermione beamed with pleasure and pride at his words.

"We are all very proud with how far you have gone with your academics. Therefore, it does pain me to be the bearer of bad news."

Hermione's face fell.

There was a long pause before he went on. He took the sheet of parchment from his desk and handed it to her.

"This came for you this morning. I was told to hand it to you in person." He said very quietly.

Puzzled, Hermione took the parchment and, without a word, began to read it. Her eyes darted back and forth across the page.

Her heart stopped.

"No," she whispered, as she read the words that screamed out at her, not believing her eyes. "No there… there has to be some mistake."

Her fingers trembled. She barely felt Professor McGonagall's comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I'm afraid not, Ms. Granger."

_Dead. Oh, god. They're dead._

"I-I have to go home!"

She jumped to her feet and her voice shook. Hermione's wide, fearful eyes looked around wildly.

_Dead. Mom. Dad. No, they can't be. _

Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly, a pained expression on his face.

"There is nothing left Miss Granger. I'm so sorry."

She couldn't believe it. She wouldn't. But the evidence was right there before her eyes, mocking her. There was nothing left?

_Oh God. _

Her eyes drifted to the window and she barely heard Dumbledore's voice. Instead, her parent's voices rang in her ears. A memory of her last moments with them played in her mind's eye. The headmaster continued to speak, but she no longer cared. She was lost in the memory, never wanting to resurface and have the cold reality wash over her.

"_Now you be careful, Hermione, and have a good term." _

"_I will, mum."_

_Her mother's sweet voice echoed in her ears. Soft brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. _

"_We're proud of you, love." _

"_I know, dad."_

_She felt her father pull her into a tight hug. _

Hermione shut her eyes, wanting the tears to fall, but her fervent wish wasn't granted. She felt numb inside. The words:_ they're dead _echoed in the empty void of her despairing mind, blocking out everything and everyone.

With a start, she realized that McGonagall had brought her to the Fat Lady. The two of them stood before the open portrait.

"Get some sleep, child. You might feel better in the morning." Professor McGonagall said gently.

Hermione absentmindedly nodded as she stared at the floor. She refused to look at her Professor's face. She refused to see the pity flashing in her eyes as she looked down upon her. Hermione did not want to face the sympathy that hung on the Professor's usually solemn features. If she saw this, she knew that she would break down right then and there, and she couldn't do that.

Not now.

Not before an audience.

Sure, she may have lost control of her emotions a few times before, but this was different. This was personal, and it hurt her to her very being; her very soul. She couldn't cry before her professor and the very few Gryffindors that scattered the common room. If she did, she wasn't sure if she would ever stop.

For the first time, Hermione would wait until she was alone in the darkness of the empty girl's dormitories. Alone in her misery, with only precious memories for company. Only then would she allow the tears to fall until she drowned herself in them.

A few first years sat in a corner playing Exploding Snap, reminding her that only minutes ago she would have been one of them, laughing as they were, without a care in the world. The wall of numbness that she had unconsciously built cracked but held.

Others were scattered around the common room, and Ginny sat at a table surrounded by volumes of books.

Visions of her parents swam before Hermione's eyes. _They're gone. _She thought. Their voices filled her ears, drowning out the bursts of laughter and murmur of conversation surrounding her.

_They're gone. _

She shook her head fiercely to be rid of them.

The room was cozy and inviting. The warmth radiated from the dancing fire in the hearth, and yet she felt cold.

_THEY'RE GONE. _

The harsh realization of it all suddenly hit her with such a force that her mind reeled from the onslaught and the room spun. They were gone. Hermione would never see them again, and it was all her fault. The tears that she had so desperately tried to hold back blinded her as she grasped the Christmas present they had given her. The silver ring, stamped with the Greek key of eternal life and hung from a chain, felt cold. Hermione tugged at it and ignored the stares she got from her fellow Gryffindors, who now noticed her presence.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Ginny asked, now standing before her.

A jumble of emotions filled her at once. Overwhelmed, she only knew one thing: She wanted to be alone.

"Get out." she whispered.

"Hermione, what happened?" Ginny asked, her voice filled with concern.

Hermione continued to tug at the necklace.

"Get out." she said again, a little more audibly. Her eyes bore into the floor and her mental wall shattered into a thousand pieces.

"Hermione, tell me what happ-"

"Get out!" Hermione screamed. Her glistening eyes blazed with anger. Ginny and everyone else jumped at the sudden outburst. "Get out! All of you! GET OUT!"

Students scrambled out the portrait hole in haste. Some dared to glance back and sent shocked and confused looks at the angered Head Girl. Ginny hesitated.

"Please Ginny," Hermione begged. The tears were falling freely now. "Please. Just go."

Ginny uncertainly backed away and cast a worried look on her friend before climbing out the portrait hole and leaving her alone in the room. With a sob, Hermione stumbled to lean on a chair facing the fireplace.

"No." she whispered brokenly, and with a fierce tug, ripped the chain off her neck.

She looked at her present sitting on her palm. The words that came with it were clear in her mind, mocking her.

_To our darling daughter. Happy Christmas, Hermione. The vacation was wonderful and we miss you dearly. Come home soon. We're proud of you, love. _

"No." she said once more.

_To Miss Hermione Granger: We are saddened to inform you that Mr. and Mrs. Ted Granger have been killed in a fateful accident. We assure you that the Dark mark hanging over the debris was quickly gotten rid of and no one else was hurt. The suspects will be apprehended and will indeed face dire consequences. Our deepest condolences and utmost sympathy. _

Her face twisted in anguish and making a fist, she threw it away, screaming her refusal. In a frenzy, she suddenly began throwing anything that she managed to get her hands on; all the while screaming at the top of her lungs, "I hate you! I hate you!"

Finally spent with the room in disarray around her, she sank slowly onto her knees, crying softly. In those moments, all that she was and all that she could have been were torn away from her, only to be replaced with an excruciating sense of emptiness. A part of her died then. It escaped in search of them, and Hermione wasn't sure if she would ever be the same again.

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**End of Flashback**

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Harry opened his eyes, and looked around blearily. He squinted in the darkness, and after a few minutes, he made out faint outlines of what he gathered were the table, another chair, and the empty fireplace. His back ached from the position he was in while he slept in the armchair, but this didn't matter. All that mattered to him was safely sleeping in his arms.

Hermione murmured something in her sleep and snuggled closer to him.

Harry smiled down at her, feeling content. Then he blinked as the memories of last night played in his mind's eye, and his smile turned into a frown. Harry could barely see her in the darkness that enveloped them, but he could still feel her.

He saw her with his touch.

He felt her chest slowly rising and falling with every breath she took. He felt her smooth cheek that rested at the base of his neck. Her arms around him. Her lips so close. Harry swallowed and heaved a sigh as he struggled to control himself.

_You're mad. _

Green eyes pierced the darkness and his fingers trembled slightly as he delicately traced the soft curve of her cheek. Hermione shifted in her sleep, leaning into his touch. Harry darted his fingers away, afraid that if she would awaken, the spell would be broken. The moment would be lost, and he would have to go on pretending.

_What are you doing? What are you thinking? She's your best friend for god's sakes! _A voice in his head shouted at him.

He shut his eyes against the traitorous images of last night pounding into him. He wanted to hang onto the moment of bliss, and at the same time, he wanted to push it away and hide his face in shame.

_What have I done? _

Resting his chin on her head, he sighed.No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't let her go. He still felt her lips caressing his with a fiery passion that rivalled his own. He still felt the ghost of her hands on him; rushing through his hair, clinging to his shoulders and pulling his head down to hers.

_Her parents were murdered because of you, and what did you do? Did you comfort her? No. You used her. You took advantage of her, you prat. _

"It wasn't supposed to happen this way." Harry whispered, disgusted with himself.

"No, Harry. It wasn't." Hermione answered.

Harry jolted at the sound of her voice. "You're awake."

"So are you."

Neither of them made to get up. Not a word was uttered for a long while.

"It's gone. Isn't it?" Hermione asked, clearly talking about their friendship.

Harry shifted to look down at where her face would be. In his mind, he could see brown eyes filled with confusion and nervousness and that trace of sadness born of her loss that he was sure would never leave her eyes.

She waited for his answer.

"It doesn't have to be."

"We can't go back after this, Harry."

_She feels nothing for you, and you are not going to lose her just because you thought with your dick instead of your head. _

"You were overwhelmed with grief, and I… overreacted."

"You call _this_ an overreaction?"

"I call it a mistake." Harry managed to choke out.

"A mistake?"

Hermione desperately wanted to see his face, but for some strange unexplainable reason, she didn't move to sit up. Harry's voice sounded strained, and she wanted to know what he was feeling. Especially what he was thinking.

"A mistake." Harry confirmed with much difficulty.

"You can't honestly tell me that you felt nothing."

_I felt _everything_. I love you more than you can possibly imagine Hermione, but I'm not letting you get hurt again. _

Harry's silence confirmed Hermione's thoughts that he was lying, but she didn't say anything.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked.

"No, but I will be." She answered.

Hermione knew that she should get up. She knew that she should have gone straight to the girl's dormitories where she would have the time and solitude to deal with her confusion and what she was going to do about it, but she didn't move.

Neither did Harry.

"No matter what, Hermione, I'll always be here for you."

"I know."

They stayed where they were, no longer sleeping. Not a single word was said after that. Not a single word was needed. In the darkness, they were free. Nothing was right or wrong. There was only the moment, and there was only each other. Embraced by the darkness, she didn't have to push him away, and he didn't have to hold back.

In the morning, they knew everything would change. They would go back to the way things were. They would pretend that nothing happened. She would eventually deal with her parent's death, and their platonic friendship would remain. But for the moment, they were no longer Harry and Hermione. They were just a boy and a girl finding comfort in each other's arms.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

And he smiled.


	3. The Shadow that Stalks Me

DISCLAIMER: It's obvious, everything belongs to J.K Rowling except (yes ther's an EXCEPT!) for Petra Manalo, Collins and Weber. These charaters are definitely mine. All mine. Now the painting with the farmer and his wife is an ACTUAL painting and a famous one at that. Dunno who the artist is though, but kuodo to him...or her... ya...

A/N: Yes, I am still alive. I am incredibly sorry that it has taken me so long to put up this chapter. And yes, sadly it has taken me about 3 months to finish only..wait for it..ONE chapter. Hopefully the length makes up for it, and the quality too. Yes i know the Creevy brothers are not the beeters for Gryffindor quidditch team, but what the hell, it's my story and my plot. So there. As for Angelina and friends, lets just say they stayed back a year and are in Harry's now. Um, hope all of this is to your liking, and I'll shut up now so u can get to reading. Enjoy...or else... shakes fist

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Torn chapter 3

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The portrait opened and in climbed two ragged looking figures, drenched and caked with mud. Dark circles clouded their eyes and the shorter one of the two stifled a yawn. 

"I swear, if we have to do anymore of these late night practices, I'm quitting." Ginny ran a hand tiredly through her bright red hair.

"If the Creevey brothers keep accidentally pelting me with that blasted bludger, Angelina's going to have to find herself new beaters," Ron said as he limped over to the table while scrubbing a hand over his freckled face.

Ginny chuckled at this then said, "I'm going straight to bed, and you should too. It's late."

"Yeah, I'll be up in a bit. I just have to finish McGonagall's essay first. There's no chance of copying Hermione's tomorrow, and I won't even bother with Harry." Ron gingerly sat down on his chair and yawned loudly.

Ginny paused on her way up the stairs, "Should I…check on Hermione? I tried to talk to her today, but she wouldn't say anything."

Ron grew sober, "No, let her sleep. She's had a hard day."

"Will she be alright?"

"Of course she will. Give her time and she'll be back to her same old know-it-all self." Ginny nodded, and then disappeared up the stairs.

Ron stared at the table, not moving. "Incendio," he muttered as he pointed his wand at the fireplace. A roaring fire sprang to life in the hearth, immediately warming up the room. Ever since Voldemort's rebirth, he'd taken a leaf out of Harry's book and kept his wand with him at all times. No matter where he was, or what he was doing, he always made sure that he had it on him, hidden and protected.

"Because you never know," Harry had told him while slipping his own wand securely up his sleeve.

For a few minutes he debated with himself whether he should just sit there and enjoy the luxury of sitting or actually get up and fetch his books from his room upstairs. The image of Professor McGonagall's stern face won the battle, and with a heavy sigh he got up and slowly made his way to the staircase.

Ron froze.

Someone else was in the room.

He tightened his grip on his wand and slowly turned around. A pair of green eyes stared right back at him, and he let out a breath that he didn't know he'd held.

"Blimey, Harry! Don't do that! You almost gave me a bleeding heart atta-" For the second time that night Ron froze. This time however, it wasn't due to the feeling of impending danger.

Harry placed a finger to his lips and Ron's eyes bulged out of his head. He didn't know what he was expecting, but the sight of his two best friends together in such an intimate proximity startled him.

The two of them were sitting in the armchair; Hermione curled up against Harry. Her head rested on his chest and she had an arm draped over him.

The light of the fire danced off her features, and Ron thought she looked lovely. Harry's arms encircled her and his head had lifted from hers at the sight of Ron. Hermione continued to slumber away, oblivious to the seemingly embarrassing and awkward moment at hand.

"Ron," Harry began, quickly tensing up, "This is not what it looks like."

Ron mentally shook his head, and raised his hands up in defense. "You don't have to explain anything, mate. I know how you feel about her."

Now it was Harry's turn to be surprised. His mouth hung open and it took him a couple of seconds to actually force some coherent words out. "Y-You know?"

"Of course I know, Harry! I'm not daft."

"And you're…okay with it?"

Ron frowned, "Now I didn't say I was okay."

"Ron I-"

Ron's face broke into a smile, "Relax, mate. I'm only joking."

Harry smiled at him gratefully.

"Mind you, it is strange seeing you two like this."

"Don't get used to it. This isn't permanent."

At this Ron raised an eyebrow.

"She doesn't feel…I mean, I just can't…Well, we're still friends and…" Harry heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. He looked down at his best friend sleeping in his arms. Her bushy hair spilled over in all directions and she had dark circles under her eyes.

Harry thought she was beautiful.

"You really care about her don't you?" Ron said, breaking the silence that settled between them.

"I love her," Harry answered, not looking up.

Ron was startled by his answer, and yet a part of him wasn't surprised at all. Harry laughed bitterly and continued, "And all I can give her is friendship." Green eyes met blue and for a split second, Ron thought he saw a hint of pain flash through those emerald eyes, but before he could decipher what it really was, it was gone.

"So what're you gonna do?"

"What I have to."

Harry didn't continue and Ron didn't urge him to. Ron rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing what else to say and cleared his throat. "Well, at least there's one good thing about this."

"Which is?"

Ron grinned, "I'm now wide awake."

Harry chuckled. "Did you finish McGonagall's essay?"

"You think I'd still be down here if that blasted essay was finished?"

"Right."

Ron yawned yet again and stretched. "Might as well get started then, eh?"

"Might as well."

"At least I'm not the only one up at this ungodly hour." He dragged his feet over to the stairs leading to the boy's dorms.

"The Creevey brothers at it again?"

"Yeah, lousy gits. You'd figure that if they can hit the bludgers, they'd do the job right and send them away from their own sodding team mates."

"Hey, grab mine too, will you? They're on the bed." Ron nodded and disappeared.

The boy's dorm was dark. Only the soft snores from the other beds indicated that life- if at all human from the sound of it- was indeed present in the room. Ron sighed as he tossed his Quidditch robe onto his trunk. He grabbed his books, parchment, and inkbottles then went over to get Harry's books. He paused and swallowed hard as a fresh wave of jealousy suddenly washed over him. Ron squeezed his eyes shut, but he couldn't manage to get the picture out of his head. In his mind's eye he saw them together. He grit his teeth then took a deep breath. Ron struggled with himself. His old feelings, that he had thought were long gone, started to resurface with the oncoming images, and he tried to force them down. "Won't help at all," he muttered to himself. "It's for the best, mate. It's for the best."

Thankfully, his anger started to slowly ebb away. He heaved a sigh and softly laughed at his moment of foolishness. "Boy do I need some sleep."

Hermione was nothing more to him than a best friend, and all he felt for her was brotherly love. At times he was too protective of her he did admit, somewhat half-heartedly. But this was different. This was Harry, and he would never do anything to hurt her. Hell, he wasn't even going to go for her. Now that might change, with time, he thought. Still, getting used to this wasn't going to be easy. Suspecting that Harry did have feelings for Hermione was one thing, but love?

One impressively loud snore shook Ron from his musings, and he eyed his own bed.

It called out him.

Groaning, he shifted his books in his arms, and taking Harry's books and parchment, he walked out the door and headed down the stairs.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked as he trudged down the stairs and laid his burden onto the table. Something shiny glinted at the corner of his eye and he went over to see what it was.

"Upstairs. I woke her up and sent her to bed," Harry answered. Ron nodded, and bent down to take a closer look. On the floor glinting in the dim light was Hermione's necklace. Ron picked it up.

"Hey, Harry."

"Hmm?"

Ron straightened with some discomfort and raised the present in the air for Harry to see. The silver chain dangled in his hand, and the ring swung back and forth gracefully. "They must have forgotten this when they cleaned the place up," Ron said. "Strange for house-elves to overlook something."

"Hermione never mentioned losing it," Harry noted.

"Don't think she lost it, mate."

At this, Harry said nothing.

Ron pocketed it. "I'll give it to her when she gets up."

"Right then. We should get to work." They headed to the desk and sat down.

"This should be exciting," Harry muttered, as they spread out their work before them. Ron dipped his quill into the ink bottle. "At least you're almost finished. I've got to start the blasted thing. Three inches right?" Harry nodded and Ron groaned, "Lovely."

* * *

A lone figure dashed across the hallways of the empty fire lit corridors of Hogwarts castle. Breathing heavily, he pressed himself up against the cold stonewalls, hugging the shadows. No signs of pursuit rang in his ears and he breathed out a heavy sigh of relief then winced. With one hand he gingerly brushed the side of his face. Four bloody scratches raked across his high cheekbones and he swore under his breath, "Damn cat." 

Marcus Weber ignored the steady throb of the stinging pain flaming across his cheeks and concentrated on more important matters. Sinking to the ground in cover of darkness, his hands shook as they carefully unwrapped the cloth binding the heavy object he held in his arms. He sucked in a breath at the sight of the thick book before his eyes and his grimy fingers trembled as they hovered over the cover wanting but not daring to touch its rough, worn surface.

"Blimey…"

"Oy!"

A hand came out of the darkness and grasped his shoulder. In one swift movement he grabbed his assailant's arm, twisted, pinning his foe to the wall. A glint of steel pressed up against a pale throat.

"Never sneak up on me again," Weber growled.

"Oh, easy, mate. Easy. I was just playin' 'round."

"This is no time for games, Collins. We're here to get the book and the blood. Now, I did my part. Did you do yours?"

"Of course! You've gotta relax, mate," Alister Collins said favoring his arm and rubbing his throat, "You almost twisted me arm off! And watch where you jab that sodding knife 'o yours. Don't know why you carry that rubbish 'round. I could 'o easily disabled you with me wand 'ere."

Weber smiled grimly, slipping the knife and rewrapping the book, "You would have been dead before you had the chance to utter a word, and I will do something far worse than just twisting your bleeding limbs off if you don't keep quiet!" he hissed.

Collins grumbled in response, then his eyes lit up when they spotted the book in his companion's hands.

"Is that it then? _That's_ what the Dark Lord wants? A dusty ol' book?"

"_This_ dusty old book can easily wipe out your family's and more importantly, _your_ very existence. Now did you get her or did you not?" Weber asked, looking around for anything out of place.

Collins jabbed his thumb behind him, and Weber looked up. Two pairs of frightened eyes stared back at him and once again the air was filled with a string of curses, "Collins, you dippy bastard, are you daft?! You have _two_ bleeding girls hanging there! We only need one!"

"Easy, Weber. The spare's for me," Collins answered flippantly. At this, a small whimper escaped from one of the floating figure's frozen lips. Weber shut his eyes and slowly counted to ten. He could feel a migraine coming on. "Our orders, Collins, were to strictly slip in and slip out with the book and _one_ girl. Now, I want you to stop thinking of your dick and start following fucking orders before we both get bloody killed."

"But Weber, I can easily get both of 'em out 'o 'ere without-"

"I don't care if you've figured out a way to bring all of the bloody girls in this school! Get rid of the spare, or it will be your hide and mine!"

Collins sighed.

"And for god's sakes, knock them out will you? I will not have us killed just because poppet here couldn't keep her mouth shut."

"Why don't I just kill her?"

Weber's eyes widened at the comment, "Are you mad? And have the old man after us like a bleeding blood hound? Smart one, you are. It's a wonder that we've managed to get into the castle undetected. I won't have you spoiling this because of your stupidity. Just knock her out already."

Collins nodded and Weber kept an eye out. Both girls whimpered as the big man loomed over their frozen bodies. He brushed flaming red hair away from his eyes, raised his wand, then hesitated. Weber waited. He heard not a sound. Looking behind him, he checked on Collins and spotted the Death Eater hovering over the girls, first pointing his wand at one, then another.

"What are you waiting for? Knock one out!"

"I-I can't decide." Weber scrubbed a hand over his face in exasperation.

"Oh for Christ's sake!" He pushed Collins aside and raised his wand. There was a flash of red

and a muffled scream sounded. One of the girls slumped to the floor. The remaining girl moaned in despair and her eyes darted back and forth.

"There, that should do it. Won't remember a thing. Now let's get out of here."

Wands raised, the two of them raced across the halls. Their captive's muffled screams echoing their presence. "Will you shut her up?!" Weber hissed. The sounds ceased.

Pale moonlight shed on a lone eagle slowly making its way across the night skyputting as much distance between it and the castle at a great speed. Four familiar scars streaked across the side of its head and in its talons, it clutched a heavy burden bound with a ragged cloth. Straight below it, ran a lone wolf quickly putting distance between itself and the looming castle. Following close behind the animal, floating ghostlike, her head lolling to one side and her arms and legs limp, was a young girl. Her dark hair billowed in the breeze.

It was a long time when Petra Manalo's eyes finally fluttered open.

_Where am I?_ She thought groggily.

She sat up on the hard, unfamiliar ground. Her head was pounding, and she lifted a hand to massage her temples.

"Headache my dear?" a cold voice asked.

She jumped at the intruding voice and looked up.

A man stood before her encased in shadow. He stood calmly with his arms behind his back, but his mocking, raspy voice was filled with malice and radiated absolute power. "Believe me," he said, stepping forward and into the light. "This will be the least of your worries."

A scream rose in her throat and she scrambled to get away.

The Dark Lord loomed over her and smiled, "She will do nicely."

Her breath coming out in deep shuddering gasps, she squeezed her eyes shut. _Why?_ She thought before the madness overtook her, sending her straight to the hands of hell, endlessly screaming for mercy.

* * *

"Are you finished?" 

"Not quite."

"Well hurry it up then. We've got twenty minutes until class and I'd like to get a bite to eat before hand."

"Hold on, I've almost got it. Why is this blasted spell not working? Oh, hang it! Harry, you do this."

Ron thrust Hermione's necklace onto Harry's outstretched hand. Mumbling a spell, the broken ends quickly melded together. Ron mumbled his thanks as he took the chain in his hand and held it before his eyes to inspect it. "You know, Harry? I reckon you've been practicing that charm, what with this looking brand new and all."

Harry tapped his glasses. "Try playing Quidditch in these. With all of the close calls I've had, it's a wonder that it's still in one piece." Ron laughed then grew sober as a look of sadness crossed Harry's face.

"Don't worry, mate," he said while taking a seat at the Gryffindor table beside Hermione, "You'll be up and playing again. Since Umbridge is gone, I don't see why McGonagall won't let you play. We'll talk to her, won't we Gin?"

"I'm already on it," Ginny said between bites. "Angelina said she'll talk to McGonagall as soon as she can. You might have to try out again, just to show that you've still got the knack."

"Brilliant! Well it's settled then. McGonagall is bound to say yes, Harry'll be back on the team, and

Hermione can teach me that mending charm, right Hermione?"

Hermione blinked as she looked up from her plate still laden with food.

"Sorry, what?" she asked, a pink flush rose in her cheeks.

Harry looked worryingly at her, noticing that she had not taken a single bite of food. "Hermione, you haven't eating a thing," he commented.

Hermione looked down at her plate with surprise, as if noticing the food placed before her for the first time. "Oh, I guess I'm not that hungry right now."

"Did you hear, Hermione? Harry's going to be back on the Quidditch team," Ron said.

"Might, Ron. He might be back. McGonagall hasn't said anything yet," Ginny retorted.

Ron responded to her comment with a wave of his hand, "Course she'll let him."

"That's wonderful, Harry. You'll make it, I'm sure of it," Hermione answered in a far away voice. Her eyes focused on her plate, and never landed on Harry. Her face was still aflame and Harry wondered if she remembered the events from last night.

He sure did.

From the moment he entered the Great Hall and spotted Hermione, his eyes had never left her. He drank in the sight of her, the sound and smell of her filled his senses. With his unrelenting stare, he willed her to look at him. Her eyes stayed firmly on her plate, or strayed every now and then to focus on Ginny, Ron, or anyone else talking to her. At times her eyes wandered around the room seeing things that no one else could see, watching the memories that were meant for only her eyes alone.

She never looked at him.

Rays of sunlight poured through the windows of the room and another memory flooded her mind, trapping her. She saw them walking her to King's Cross, assuring her that everything was going to be alright, and that she have a good term. The morning sun cast its rays upon her mother's angelic features, and she pulled her into a tight hug. Hermione sighed inwardly, not wanting the dream to end.

A fierce, yet muffled whisper sounded in her ear. Hermione blinked, in confusion.

"What Ron?"

Ron looked taken aback. "I didn't say anything, Hermione."

"Oh." She ignored the concerned looks that were directed her way, and shook her head with a forced smile. "Must be hearing things." She smiled weakly and cleared her throat, "So did you finish your essay, Ron?"

"Oh, yeah. It took hours, but it's done. I don't see what the point of Somnium Gradior is, I mean, no one's practiced it in centuries. It's not like one of us is going to wake up one morning and say, 'Hey, I reckon I should stalk a random person, and while I'm at it, jump into their head and control them just for kicks'. This business is just pointless if you ask me," Ron finished, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

Hermione perked up a bit at this comment and turned to Ron, "Oh, Ron, you don't understand. Dream Walking is quite fascinating and not pointless at all." For a moment her face lit up and it was as if nothing had changed. Harry was mesmerized by the familiar sparkle that shone in her eyes and he gazed in wonder at the sudden change that had come over her.

"It's useful to learn, Ron. None of us can accomplish such a feat of course, but by learning about it and understanding it, we're able to realize that transfiguration doesn't only apply to physically changing the external. We can now see that it is possible to change the internal aspects. We can add different characteristics to objects or take them away without changing the physical being."

At the confused look Ron was giving her, she eagerly went on. "Oh, don't you see, Ron? No one has or ever will have the magical capacity as the members of The Covenant had to use this spell, but we can take aspects from it; bits and pieces, and incorporate it into other spells! Just think, by experimenting, med wizards can cure the sick by simply getting rid of the disease. We can help both the magical and muggle world!"

Ron blinked.

"Wow."

"I know, isn't it just amazing?"

"Yeah. You definitely have to get out more." Hermione rolled her eyes in response. Ron continued, "Still think that it's useless, but well, that's me. On the bright side this is a brilliant opportunity to change the topic. So," before Hermione could snap at Ron, he fished her necklace out of his pocket and handed it to her, "I found this last night. Harry fixed it. Now, naturally I would have done that bit on my own, but since a _certain_ person thinks that it's better to teach one friend useful spells that could very well save a life from, oh I dunno, a man eating crocodile or something-anything's possible right?- " Ron ignored the incredulous outburst from Hermione, a snort from Harry, a loud guffaw from Ginny, and continued, "and leave her other friend in the dark, well that does leave me in a bit of a pickle when faced with broken, shiny, valuable objects." He finished with a look of mock seriousness.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, "That, was by far the craziest, most ridiculous bit of rubbish I've ever heard." A hint of a smile lit her features. Ron grinned and shoveled another spoonful into his mouth.

"But thanks Ron." She hesitated before finally looking up at Harry.

Their eyes locked.

She swallowed.

"And thank you Harry, for fixing it."

He nodded at her, but didn't say a word. Hermione clasped the chain around her neck, and fingered the ring.

"_NEVER take it off again,"_ a voice hissed threateningly into her ear. Hermione jumped, breaking her gaze from Harry and looked at Ron. She scowled, "I said thank you, Ron. You didn't have to say that."

"Say what?"

"Oh, you very well know what. Honestly, for once would you just grow up!"

And with that she stood up and marched out of the Great Hall. Ron stared after her, bewildered and open mouthed, all trace of merriment long gone.

"What did I say?"

* * *

Hermione trudged along the halls, hands clenched into fists at her sides. She mumbled to herself, "Rude, inconsiderate git..." She couldn't believe Ron had the nerve to tell her what to do, let alone whisper the rude command in her ear loud enough for Harry to hear. Mumbling profanities that would have made even Professor Flitwick gasp in shock, she stormed passed a first year who gave her a look of pity. The sad look didn't help matters and only angered her further. _Who is she to even think of feeling sorry for me? I don't want your pity!_ "What are you looking at?" she snapped at the girl. 

"N-nothing," the first year stammered in response and hurried away.

Hermione huffed and continued on. The raspy voice still rang in her ears and she shook her head violently to be rid of it. She cursed Ron once more for being so insensitive and cursed herself for being easily provoked.

Hermione passed by a painting and stopped, staring at it. Her anger melted away and the moment was tossed into the back of her mind. All that was left was the painting before her. It was familiar and widely known among both the Muggle and Magical world. Her mind just couldn't grasp who the painter was.

A farmer and his wife looked back at her. The farmer winked, and his wife, standing by his side, smiled. Neither said a word and Hermione just stared. Her father had brought her to an art gallery once and had shown her this very painting. It was his favorite. How ironic that she happened to stumble upon this very painting when there were so many hung up in the school.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a shadow darting past. The sudden movement startled her and she turned and looked around.

There was nothing there.

Puzzled, Hermione shrugged and looked at the painting once more. It triggered memories that she wanted to banish from her chaotic mind. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to walk away.

As Hermione walked, she held back tears threatening to fall. Echoing footsteps sounded behind her, but she took no notice of this, thinking it was a fellow student making his way to his next class. Hermione paused to look at another painting hoping that this one would help take her mind off the past.

The footsteps paused.

Her ploy didn't work and she continued on. The echoing footsteps followed her, and she took note of this strangeness. Experimenting, she stopped in her tracks, and just as she had expected, the echoing sound followed suit and ceased. She turned around, wondering who was following her.

The hallway was empty.

"_Hermione,"_ the raspy voice whispered behind her. Hermione turned to find no one there.

"I'm going crazy," she said to herself and continued on.

"_Hermione."_

Hermione paused. _What is going on?_ she thought. A dark shape turned the corner and disappeared, too fast for Hermione to make out. Frustrated, she squared her shoulders and continued walking, thinking this was a mere joke being played by kids who had nothing better to do. Her hand tightened on her wand when suddenly felt someone standing behind her.

"Hermione?"

"What?!" she snapped whirling around. She blinked to see Harry peering down at her, a look of worry and confusion plastered on his face.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice clearly tinged with concern. She noticed a shadow passing and her eyes darted to look behind him. Harry looked at her questioningly, and turned his head to follow her gaze.

The hallway was empty.

Hermione's face was white and she seemed jumpy. She continued to stare searchingly behind him, her eyes darting anxiously.

He softened his voice.

"Hey, I'm here, love," he tilted her head to face him and she gasped at his touch. "Tell me what's wrong."

She focused on the young man before her, and opened her mouth to tell him that she was absolutely fine when a single word that he'd uttered made her pause.

_Love?_

A swarm of emotions filled her and bits of memory flashed before her eyes. A flash of hands roaming over her body, caressing her face.

Hands rushing through dark hair.

Hands igniting deep fires within her.

A flash of lips searing over her skin, the nape of her neck, her shoulders, her fingertips.

Lips searing hers with deep, passionate kisses that she never wanted to end.

Her name whispered in her ear with fervent desire.

Hermione blinked.

Harry's face swam before her eyes and she swallowed, fighting to control herself. She clutched her books tightly to herself to muffle the sounds of her racing heart and took a few deep breaths. "I'm fine Harry. Why wouldn't I be?" she said stepping safely back and away from him.

Unaware of what had just passed, he asked, "What happened back there, Hermione?"

She shrugged in response, "I overreacted. I'm just tired, Harry."

Then a look of worry filled her eyes, "I hope I didn't hurt Ron's feelings."

Harry stifled a laugh at the abrupt change that came over her, "No, he's fine. A little worried about you, but he's okay."

Hermione nodded and smiled thinly at him. She desperately wanted to put some space between herself and Harry, just to figure out what she was feeling at the moment. _We're just friends,_ she thought innocently to herself. _Nothing will change that._

In moments, the halls were filled with bodies rushing to get to class. "We have charms next. Ron should be here soon."

Hermione nodded and fought down the urge to pounce on him, push him against the wall and…_you will absolutely NOT finish that thought, Hermione Anne Granger. _

She blushed.

Harry, eyes scanning above the heads of the students, searching for Ron, was oblivious to Hermione's reaction. He spotted Ron up ahead talking to Luna.

His ears were red.

Harry smirked.

Hermione wondered what amused him and craned her neck to look. She saw Luna hand something to Ron, then smile at him before taking leave.

"Now, I wonder what that was about," Harry said.

Ron turned, spotted them, and at the sight of Harry's arched eyebrows, he scowled.

"Well, well, is there something you should be telling us, Ron?"

"Sod off, Harry."

"She fancies you Ron, and you know it."

Ron's ears turned that familiar shade of red once more and Hermione bit back a smile.

"She does not," Ron protested.

"What did Luna give to you, Ron?" Hermione asked.

Ron turned to her, "Talking to me again, are you?"

Hermione blushed, "Oh, well, Ron, about what I said… I'm sorry I-"

Ron shook his head, "Don't mention it. I'll probably find it in my heart to forgive you someday. But I reckon it will be forever broken." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I wonder if Luna's present will work wonders in mending his heart," Harry said with a wink.

"It's not a bloody present."

"Then what is it? Come on Ron, give it here."

"No."

"Ron, just let me see-"

"No! Gerroff, Harry!"

There was a quick scuffle. A slew of curses, a disapproving sniff from Hermione, and shouts of "let me see, Ron!" later, Harry triumphantly obtained a copy of The Quibbler clutched tightly in his hand.

"Why, Ron, I never knew you were a subscriber." Harry said with a twinkle in his eye. Ron glared at Harry in response.

"It's nothing. She told me that there's an article on Quidditch that I might like," he said flippantly.

The three of them walked into their Charms classroom and took their seats. Harry flipped through the magazine. Titles in bold jumped out at him and he read them aloud, " 'Magic Vacuum Grants Man Three Wishes', hmmm always wanted one of those. Hey Hermione, here's one that you might be interested in: 'The Covenant Lives'."

Hermione snorted, "That's a load of tosh."

"Ah, here we go, 'Liverpool Keeper's Secrets to Success'. Very interesting Ron, but believe me, you don't need any pointers from this rubbish. You're a brilliant keeper already."

"Why thank you Harry, but if you think that compliments and eye batting are going to get you off the hook of a severe beating, you are sadly mistaken my friend."

Harry laughed and handed Ron back his magazine.

Ron snatched it away and hid it among his books. "Harry, if you even breathe a word of this I swear I will-"

But they didn't find out what forms of bodily harm Ron would perform upon his best friend; for at that moment Professor Flitwick walked in. "Alright everyone, settle down and we'll begin. Wands out!"

Ron took out his wand and glanced at Harry who whispered something in Hermione's ear. She laughed at his words and quickly shushed him. Ron smiled. She was going to be okay. Harry would make sure of that.

A lump rose in the back of his throat and a red haze of jealousy sprang before his eyes. His grip tightened on his wand at the sound Harry's laughter caused from a comment made by the bushy haired girl casting beside him. Ron grit his teeth and placed one hand on the table to stop it from forming into a fist. His hand brushed against something, he looked down to see _The Quibbler_ sticking out of his books and the red haze faded.

A past conversation ran through his mind and his ears reddened in response.

"_Morning, Ron."_

"_Hi Luna. What's this?"_

"_I thought you might like an article in here. It's about Quidditch. Think of it as a late Christmas present."_

"_Er, yeah, thanks."_

Ron's grip on his wand loosened as he stared at the magazine. He glanced up at his best friends then back down at Luna's present. Acceptance washed over him and the sight of Hermione smiling features, and Harry's sparkling eyes filled him with satisfaction.

"Mr. Weasley," Professor Flitwick said, interrupting Ron's thoughts.

"I don't see you casting." Ron glanced down at his professor and smiled sheepishly.

"Oh, er, right Professor." He raised his wand.

Everything was going to be okay.

* * *

Screaming; she couldn't get the screaming out of her head. Petra hung from the wall, nothing holding her up but the cold, iron shackles digging into her wrists. Her chest heaving, her hair in her eyes, all she could do was listen; listen to the muffled conversations from behind the barred door, to her own silent screams when the agonizing pain took over completely, and to her heavy breathing during the precious few moments of reprieve. 

The magical shackles that clung to her wrists didn't help matters. Not only did they aid in holding her up, as her legs were now completely numb, but they also kept her conscious and utterly aware of every ache and pain her young body protested.

She was encased in darkness, not that it mattered. All she had to do was close her eyes while in the throes of madness and a brilliant burst of white light would explode forth from behind her eyelids.

The walls, the floors, the whole room wreaked with sickness and death. Petra's once pristine Hogwarts robes clung to her body, slick with sweat. Not a mark adorned her skin. There was no sign of the agonizing torture she went through day in and day out, but she felt it. It was a feeling of sharp knives twisting into her and tearing out with excruciating clarity. A pain so intense that Petra often wished the Dark Lord would just end it with two words.

A single word was all it took to send her reeling into an agony so great that whenever she was granted spare moments of peace, her mind would race to discern who she was, where she was being held, and who was doing this to her. All that her nearly broken mind had come to recognize was a single word.

"_Crucio."_

Petra had come to hate this word with a burning passion. The pit of anger that boiled within her was all that held Petra to her sanity. She wanted revenge, but all she could do was wait for the opportune moment.

Petra clenched her fists as she struggled to breathe and slowly shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She strained her ears in the darkness to make out what words were being said behind the closed doors.

" 'Ow much longer do you think she'll live?"

"The master wants to keep that one alive. She's the first, and 'ee says she's the source."

"I don't get why we 'ave to guard 'er much longer. The lass can't barely stand, let alone break free. It's not as if she can slip off those chains there."

"Don't you question the Dark Lord orders or it'll be your 'ead. Besides it'll be only a couple of days 'til the change is completed. Then the master will begin _The Walk_."

"That's it then? All we 'ave to do is wait?"

"Exactly."

Petra wrinkled her brow in confusion. Only bits and pieces of the conversation had passed through the doors and she wasn't sure if she had heard properly. So she wasn't going to die, but what change were they talking about?

_The Walk? What in the bleeding hell is The Walk?_

A door opened.

A shaft of light pierced the dark abyss that was her room, illuminating her. She shut her eyes against the exploding pain in her head.

The door closed.

Echoing footsteps approached her.

"Hello, child."

Petra forced her eyes open, but only saw a tall figure outlined in the darkness. It was not enough to determine who he was. Her eyes narrowed angrily as he came closer and her breathing became shallow.

She knew what was to come.

"Who are you?!" her raw throat managed to rasp out.

"A friend." the voice drawled in answer.

There was a twisted smile in the darkness.

A whispered word.

Then madness.

A/N: Whew, that was fun. Hope you all enjoyed this piece that i had to sweat blood for, what with all the crap i have to do. School is grand. Must get to the point. Please be nice and review my work, or i shall cry. Twice. Thank you and goodnight!


	4. I'm Not Well

Torn ch. 4: Take the Chance

* * *

Professor Dumbledore stood by Fawke's perch, calmly stroking the beautiful bird.

"And you are sure that she's quite alright, Minerva?"

Minerva McGonagal straightened her glasses with a stern look on her face.

"She's getting there, Albus. It has been only three months past, but the girl will get through this ordeal."

"Her grades have been suffering for a bit, but not to the extent where Miss Granger would be in serious trouble," Professor Flitwick piped up.

Dumbledore nodded absentmindedly, "As is expected."

"She'll be fine Albus. There's no need to fret over the child."

"I know, Minerva. I am aware that there are other troubles brewing in Hogwarts."

_Some that I am not even aware of._

There was a knock at the door and at a beckoning call from Dumbledore, Professor Snape strode in. Close at his heels followed a plump man who was rather pink in the face. A warm smile lit his features, and he held out a hand to each of the professors in turn.

"Ah, Quinlan. You had no trouble finding your way, I hope?"

"Oh, no. Not at all, Albus," the big man boomed in a deep voice violently awakening some of the sleepers in their portraits.

After some sincere apologies to the disgruntled occupants of the said portraits, he continued, "Severus here was kind enough to show me the way. Isn't that right Severus?"

"As it is, Quinlan is correct. I indeed had the misfortune of running into him, and he just couldn't take no for an answer."

Quinlan gave out a hearty laugh, thinking this was a great joke. Hagrid shifted his feet. Flitwick jumped at the sound, McGonagal's lips pressed into a thin line and Snape winced.

Dumbledore, eyes twinkling merrily said in an amused voice, "Hagrid, Professor McGonagal, Professor Flitwick, if you haven't already met him, this is Quinlan Wellington. Our new Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher."

There was a murmur of greeting and many nods each followed by a booming, "How do you do?"

Dumbledore hid his smile and turned his mind back to important matters.

"Well I'm sure you will all have the chance to get to know each other better in a little while, but first, we must get to the point of the missing students."

All at once the light atmosphere in the room turned grim.

"There was another taken last night," Severus said.

Dumbledore's eyes flashed in surprise then simmered in anger.

"That makes it six girls in the past three months," breathed Professor McGonagal in horror.

"Why was I not informed of this immediately, Severus?"

"It was only discovered just this afternoon when Argus took note of those students who left for Hogsmead and those left behind."

"And the missing one is?"

"Orla Quirke from Ravenclaw, Professor," Argus Filch replied.

"The same as the others?"

"I'm afraid so, Albus," Professor Flitwick answered sadly.

There was a long pause as they all let his words sink in. In the span of only just three months, six girls had been taken from right under their noses.

All had been between the ages of eleven and thirteen.

All were half-bloods.

"What does this mean, Albus?" McGonagal asked.

Dumbledore had left Fawkes to his preening, and walked over to the window. He stared out at the scenery that lay before him. A ray of sunlight fell through the window and he squinted as the bright light filled his eyes. _I don't know, Minerva._ He thought. Instead he said aloud, "It means that Voldemort's power grows stronger and we must continue to be steadfast."

He turned to look at the grim and solemn faces standing before him, awaiting his instructions, awaiting his leadership. They said not a word, but their eyes told much. They asked him to give them solace. They desired his comfort, and strength. He wanted to give it all to them, but he could only give so much.

_Will there come a time when I will look to them for such things? Will there come a time when my help will be no longer needed? What have I done to aide them in any way? It all only gets much worse, and He grows stronger with each passing day…When will this end? _

A soft whistle from Fawkes brought him out of his reverie and gave him that one ounce of strength he needed from another. It gave him that one shoulder to lean on that was often just out of reach.

_Thank you my friend. _

"We will do what we must, Minerva," he said in a firm voice, and his blue eyes burned with a fiery intensity. "Severus, Minerva, set the wards in the hallways. Quinlan, I want you to take care of the grounds. Professor Sprout can assist you. I believe that since you are already acquainted with Severus, he can help you find her and introduce her to you."

McGonagal suppressed a smile while Quinlan, much to Snape's clear displeasure, put a friendly arm around his shoulders as the three of them walked out the door.

"Professor Flitwick you must take care to keep an eye out for anyone else missing. Check the lists each night. Also we will give the students a curfew of 9:00. We must not give them reason to panic, but they must be careful."

Flitwick nodded, brandished his wand and left the room.

"Hagrid, I want you to go into the Forbidden Forest. Ask Bane if he had spotted anything unusual."

"Righ' Dumbledore," Hagrid said and left.

"Argus, I believe you know all of the secret passages in this castle."

"Yes I do, headmaster," Argus replied with a curt nod.

"Good, then I want you to keep an eye out and block the important ones."

"Yes headmaster," Filch answered and withdrew, leaving Dumbledore once again alone in the room.

He heaved a great sigh, and his shoulders slumped wearily. He sank into his chair feeling physically, and emotionally drained.

"They cannot afford a moment of weakness," he said to himself, and yet he felt just that.

Weak.

There was a flutter of wings and Fawkes landed on his desk. Dumbledore looked up.

"He grows stronger, Fawkes and I am afraid that there will come a time when my efforts will not be enough."

Fawkes tilted his head in answer.

"Not nearly enough."

He sighed again and smiled sadly at the bird perched on his desk.

"Ah, old friend, life is easy with your eyes closed." And with those last words, he sighed once more and placed his head in his hands.

_When will this end?_

_

* * *

_

She was lovely. Harry simply couldn't manage to tear his eyes away from her. At times Hermione would feel them on her and would look up to meet them. She'd suddenly stop whatever she was doing, frozen in place for a few seconds. Then something would click and she would blink and look away, flustered.

Harry smiled inwardly as this said action happened again, once more. A part of him raged against what he was doing. Pulling her in with a simple gaze. But another part of him relished the fact that such a simple act could affect her so. That he could affect her so.

It had been three months, two days, six hours and 18 minutes since he had last touched her the way he had been wanting to for so long. And he wasn't sure if he could take another minute of the slow, burning torture.

Thankfully, there was something that held him back from throwing caution to the wind and showing Hermione just exactly what he was feeling.

Ron was sitting right beside him.

"Hey, Hermione? Mind checking this over for me?"

Hermione looked up from her roll of parchment.

"Are you finished already, Ron?"

"Er, no. I've only got three lines." At an indignant look from her across the table he quickly added, "But they're damned good ones."

Hermione quickly scanned what Ron had written.

"Ron, I most certainly am not going to do your homework."

She pushed his parchment back towards him.

"Hermione, I'm shocked and appalled that you would think I'd ask you to do such a thing-"

"You might want to add in how the spell works," Hermione added.

"Oh, thanks- and besides, I don't think I've ever asked you to help me finish anything-"

"You also might want to mention the advantages and disadvantages of using the spell," Hermione added helpfully, yet again.

Ron scribbled furiously "Right- Hermione, I want you to know that I would never use you like that- you think I should change this bit around?"

"Absolutely," Hermione said with an amused smile on her face.

Harry chuckled at another of Ron's many successful attempts to get the girl's recently solemn face to break into a smile. The firelight danced across her features as she finished whatever she was writing. It didn't matter as long as he could continue to look at her. She wasn't in danger if he only gazed at her. He couldn't hurt her with his eyes.

As if she knew what he was thinking, Hermione glanced up to meet his stare. This time it was Harry who froze in mid action; his quill frozen in his hand.

_God, but a man could drown in those eyes and never want to come up for air. _

The muffled voices of the few Gryffindors still awake faded into the distance. Harry's surroundings melted away and there was only her.

_"So he does fancy you. Perfect." _

Hermione gasped slightly at the intruding voice, and jumped to her feet.

"W-Well. I'm tired, and it's late. I'll be going to bed then. Goodnight Ron. Goodnight Harry."

Harry blinked and the moment was lost. Shaken, Hermione quickly gathered her things and rushed towards the stairs leading to the girl's dorms.

"W-What?" Harry asked, confused.

"She said goodnight, mate," Ron answered.

For a moment, in the midst of a hasty retreat, Hermione stopped in her tracks and her head darted to her right. She squinted at the wall, searching for something. Ron and Harry exchanged puzzled looks.

"Er, Hermione? Is everything alright?" Harry asked, getting up. His movement caused Hermione to jump in surprise.

Ron looked at Hermione, then at the wall she seemed to be so fascinated in just seconds ago.

"Everything's fine," Hermione said, and smiled weakly "I-I thought I just saw something. That's all."

"Hey, get some rest alright?" Harry said worriedly.

"Of course. Night."

"Night." Ron echoed distractedly as he got up to examine what exactly had startled her so. "What was that about?" he asked Harry.

"Dunno," Harry answered still staring in the direction of the girl's dorms where Hermione had disappeared to.

"It's just a wall, nothing special," Something caught Ron's eye and he leaned closer to inspect it, "Well if you don't count the small drawing of Snape here being drowned by the giant squid. Hmm…not bad, that."

As Ron leaned closer to admire the comical cartoon, Harry strode back to the table, gathered his things and made his way to the boy's dormitories.

"I don't think Hermione was startled by the crude, yet comical defacement of the wall, Ron"

"I can draw better," Ron said added as he too gathered his things and followed Harry up the stairs.

The boy's dorms was empty. Harry tossed his books into his trunk and sat on his bed with a sigh.

"You know, you've gotta actually _do_ something besides gawking at her all the bleeding day."

"What?" Harry said, shaken from his thoughts.

"Oh come off it, Harry. I see you staring at her as if she's the only person in the room. It's no wonder you make her nervous. The way you've been looking at her even makes me want to punch you right in the-"

"I get the point, Ron."

An awkward silence settled between them and Ron cleared his throat twice before saying, "Why don't you just make a move on her, mate?"

Harry stared at Ron as if he was insane.

"Yeah, Ron. That's a brilliant idea. Why don't I come on to my best friend of seven years who most likely thinks of me as a brother. You know what, I think I will come on to her knowing that she's still a bit sensitive because of her parent's sudden, tragic deaths. Better yet, Ron, I think that after Sprout's class tomorrow, I'll ask Hermione to join me for some sherry and giggles and maybe we'll throw in a shag or two."

"You know, sarcasm doesn't become you, Harry."

"I don't know what to do, Ron."

"Just tell her."

"What am I supposed to say? Hello, Hermione! How's life been treating you? Oh by the way I've been in love with you since fifth year?"

"That's fine. And you can end that bit with a good shag."

Harry looked at Ron incredulously.

"Yeah, I know. I can't believe I said that too. What I'm trying to tell you is to go for her, mate. You don't have to tell her that you love her in one go. You can…show her...in… small ways." _God I can't believe I'm actually going to talk about this._ Ron thought to himself.

"What?" Harry asked, clearly not understanding why he was saying this.

Ron sighed, exasperated. "If you want her mate, just go get her."

"Ron I don't think Hermione feels-"

"She feels exactly the way you sodding want her to feel, Harry! She cares for you. More than a bleeding brother!" Ron's outburst startled Harry. It even surprised himself.

He mentally shouted at himself to shut it, but when he started he just couldn't stop.

"I see the way she looks at you," he continued "The way her face lights up every time you enter the bloody room. Blimey, Harry, she wants you just as much. Now don't just stand there like a sodding git and let her pass you by! Go for her!" he shouted.

"Er, pardon us but we couldn't help but overhear you two, what with Ron trying to break the sound barrier here."

Ron's ears reddened. "Sod off Seamus."

"Nice to see you too, Ron. So Harry, it seems you need some help with love."

"Actually Seamus-"

"Not to worry, me friends at home think of me as an expert at these things."

Ron rolled his eyes and Seamus seated himself beside Harry while Dean and Neville followed him in. Neville closed the door behind him.

"So Harry, who's the lucky girl?" Dean said.

"No one," Harry answered getting up and rummaging in his trunk, looking for nothing in particular.

"Oh come off it, Harry. You can tell us," Dean continued.

"If I remember correctly, this was a _private_ conversation," Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine. Let Harry keep his secret girl to himself. We'll find out sooner or later," Seamus said. "Your problem," he continued "is getting the girl, right?"

Harry sighed, stood up and looked out the window, wishing he was anywhere else but in the room.

"Yeah. That's it," he said reluctantly.

Seamus jumped to his feet. "Right then, Harry. Just tell her you love her then snog her brains out. Problem solved."

Neville noted that Ron's ears grew red once more.

"Yeah, that's how Harry should go about it Seamus. First surprise her then suffocate her."

"I'm not going to suffocate-"

"Don't be daft, Harry," Ron said with a wave of his hand and a glare in Seamus' direction.

Seamus ignored Ron and continued, "What you need is to be forward. Show her you want her and tell her you want her-"

"I don't think Harry should just-" Ron interjected, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Be assertive Harry. Go for what you want-"

"But you have to be able to ease her into it, mate, and not just pounce on her," Ron said.

"Exactly. Ease her into it. Make her want you just as much. Then snog her brains out." Dean added.

Ron held his hands up to silence all of them, "Alright, I think Harry's had enough of your…help for now."

"Oh come on, Ron. The man can speak for himself. Right, Harry?" Dean asked.

"I-" Harry began, feeling slightly flustered, and at a loss for words.

The thought of Harry even attempting to seduce Hermione gave Ron a stomach ache.

"I've got it!" Seamus exclaimed.

Ron rolled his eyes heavenward as he muttered, "Oh, here we go."

"Look, Harry. Every girl needs to feel wanted right?"

"Er, right."

"So you have to do just that."

This time it was Harry's turn to blush. "But how do I…" he said mostly to himself.

"Now that bit is up to you, mate," Ron added in quickly and Harry reddened in response.

"What Ron said earlier was right, Harry. You can't just stand there and wait for the next bloke to sweep her off her feet. Nothing will come of it, and you'll be just like Dean, here."

"Excuse me?" Dean asked not sure if he should be insulted or not.

"Relax, Dean. I'm just using you for an example," Seamus assured him.

"Lovely," Dean muttered.

Neville grinned and Seamus ignored them both.

"Now, Dean here's been pining away for our very own Parvati, who is clearly besotted with a Ravenclaw boy. Don't know what that lass' got in that pretty little head of hers."

"Can we please get to the point," Ron demanded.

"I had a point?" Seamus joked.

Ron wondered if reasons for point deduction included throttling a fellow Gryffindor.

Preferably Irish.

Grinning, Seamus continued, "Alright, but seriously. You don't want to do that. You don't want to end up just standing there, watching on the sidelines, hoping an opportunity will come your way."

Listening to Seamus' pep talk Ron began to understand just exactly where the man was heading, and he hated to admit it, but he agreed wholeheartedly. He was also somewhat thankful that Seamus was doing the talking instead of him. He wondered how things would have turned out if he had been the one to say those words.

Would Harry be looking like he was right now and actually contemplating the consequences of his actions? Would he have been able to give Harry the right advice? Ron looked at the grinning Seamus, a frowning Dean and an amused Neville and had the sudden urge to kiss them all for interrupting his and Harry's conversation.

"You have to take a chance and go for her with all the confidence, and charm you can muster," Seamus said.

"Er…" Harry really didn't want to be there at the moment. He glanced at the door and counted how many steps it would take him to escape. However, no matter how many times he refused, Seamus' words got through.

He couldn't do it.

No matter how much he wanted her he couldn't do it. No matter how much he cared for her, he just couldn't gather up the courage. What would he say? What would he do? He wasn't charming. He wasn't suave. Hell, he'd often stumble over his own words when talking to a girl he wanted to ask out. His shy attitude often helped him in the end, but he knew that it would never work on Hermione.

_Why am I even thinking about this?_ He thought to himself.

"Just look at Neville here," Seamus said.

Harry wondered if there was an off button.

"He was forward. He went for what he wanted. He walked up to Ginny and asked her if she wanted to go out with him,"

Harry glanced at Neville who looked pleased. At a scowling look from Ron, Neville wiped the grin off his face and Harry fought to hide his own smile.

Seamus continued, "And was flattened by her refusal."

Neville's shoulders sagged at this last remark.

"But that's beside the point! Neville was assertive. He knew what he wanted and he went for it-"

"Oy! That's my sister you're talking about there, mate!"

"Not now, Ron! Now Harry, do you want to be like old Dean here, pining away for a girl?"

"Thanks, mate," Dean said his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Don't mention it- Or do you want to be…a Neville."

At this he slapped a smug looking Neville, brimming with pride, on the back.

There was a long pause before Harry answered, "Er… do I have to answer that question?"

A collective groan went about the room and Ron threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

"You've been going about it all wrong, Seamus," he said standing and placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. He sat Harry down on top of his trunk.

Puzzled Harry looked up at the piercing blue eyes that suddenly filled his vision.

Ron hesitated before speaking. _Should I ask him?_ Ron fought with himself, thinking if he should ask the one question that had been burning within him every since the night he had found them together. _I've got to know._ Ron's curiosity won the battle.

He needed to know, he needed to hear with his own ears that this wasn't an act; that this wasn't yet another crush, another infatuation. He needed to know if Harry's feelings were sincere. Gripping both of Harry's shoulders he asked, "This isn't just an infatuation, is it?"

"No," Harry answered, looking him straight in the eye.

It was the surest answer he had given ever since this insane conversation had begun. Harry looked absolutely serious, but something inside of Ron made him continue.

"You really care for her, right?"

_What does he want me to say? No?_

"I do."

Ron swallowed as he finally voiced his main question. His hold on Harry tightened involuntarily.

"And you're not going to hurt her."

It sounded more of an order than a question, and the look on Harry's face made Ron regret ever questioning his intentions.

"Ron. I love her."

There was a heartbeat of absolute silence. Then Dean whistled.

Ron, now avoiding Harry's eyes let him go, allowing him to stand.

"Well. That statement has got to pass the test, right Ron?" Dean asked.

"Shut it, Dean," Ron snapped, but was thankful for the interruption just the same, for it gave him time to gather himself.

He didn't know how many times he'd have to hear Harry say that before he got used to it. However, he did know now that Harry's intentions were true.

He did love Hermione.

The look in Harry's eyes told him so even before the words were uttered. The strange thing was that Ron didn't feel a stab, nor a twinge of jealousy. To be honest he felt… well nothing.

Did he no longer care for Hermione like he used to? Had his old feelings left, leaving him with a sense of brotherly love that he knew was right? What had happened? But Ron knew that he didn't have to ask himself that question, for he already knew the answer and just to rub it in, his memory conjured up an image of the very reason why he felt no romantic love towards Hermione Granger any longer.

_Luna. _

Ron mentally shook his head. That was absurd. The girl was his sister's bleeding age, and not to mention a barking lunatic, and yet he found himself smiling at a mere thought of her name.

"What's so funny, Ron?" Neville asked.

The unconscious smile on Ron's face froze and he looked at his friends. Harry wasn't privy to what exactly happened in Ron's mind, but he had a guess. Ron had finally accepted.

A grin had spread across Ron's face now as he said, "Nothing. I just can't believe Harry's fancied her for so long and has done nothing about it but stare."

Harry's eyes narrowed and he grabbed a pillow and chucked it at Ron. His friend's laughter was muffled by the sudden and expected attack. Ron threw the pillow back at Harry and started talking, his voice sounded invigorated, as if Harry's confession had been exactly what he wanted to hear.

"Two questions for you, Harry. Do you see yourself with her?"

"Everyday."

Seamus pretended to swoon into Neville's awaiting arms. They all laughed and Harry threw a random object at Seamus' head.

"Do you care more for her than you do your friendship?" Ron asked already knowing the answer.

Harry smiled as he realized the simplicity of it all. He wondered why it had taken him this long.

"Yes."

"Then go for her mate. You've got nothing to lose."

* * *

She was trapped. There was no way out. No doors. No windows. Nothing. She spun in slow circles taking in her surroundings. White walls encased her. _There must be a way out. Hermione thought. There has to be. There always is. Think Granger. Just think._ But her mind was as blank as the white box she was enclosed in.

Heavy breathing rang in her ears, and it took her a couple of minutes to realize that it was her own.

She ran her hand along the cold walls, searching for a catch, a crack, anything that could be used as an exit.

_"Having trouble, my dear?" _

Hermione froze.

It was the voice again. The cold, raspy voice that sent chills through her. She continued to search madly for an exit.

"_How does it feel?" _

Hermione swallowed and forced herself to ignore the voice coming from nowhere and everywhere.

_"How does it feel?"_ it asked again.

She ran around the room and pounded her fists against the walls in frustration. A cruel, mocking laugh echoed in the room.

_"How does it feel?" _

She looked around, and scowled at the ceiling.

"How does what feel?" she asked in a steely voice.

_"To be absolutely powerless. To have lost total and complete control over not only your feelings, and body, but also your mind as well? How does it feel?" _

A wave of fear surged through her, and she fought to control her shaking voice.

"I wouldn't know."

That mocking laughter again. Who was this person? And where was she?

_It's a dream. It has to be._

"_That is correct, Miss Granger! Ten Points to Gryffindor!"_ There was that laugh again.

"Who are you!" Hermione shouted.

_"Oh, don't tell me the talented Hermione Granger hasn't figured it out yet. Shall I spoil the surprise?" _

"Show yourself," she whispered, half wanting to close her eyes.

There was a sigh, then, _"If you insist." _

Hermione's eyes darted around the room, and she caught a glimpse of a slight shimmer in the air. A dark shape began to materialize.

Her eyes narrowed in confusion, then widened at the sight of the figure standing before her. She backed away, and only the wall stopped her continued retreat. Hermione never took her eyes off of him.

"No," she whispered, horrified.

_"Surprise,"_ the Dark Lord smirked.

Hermione's eyes flew open, and she found herself bathed in darkness. She sat up quickly and wiped the sweat off her brow. Turning towards the closed curtains of what must surely be her own bed, she hesitantly reached a trembling hand to take hold of the dark fabric. Taking a deep breath she threw open the curtains.

No one was there.

The room dark. Hermione strained her ears and at the sound of faint breathing coming from the other surrounding beds she relaxed, and fell back with a sigh. Hermione closed her eyes.

_"You haven't escaped me yet, child."_

For the second time Hermione's eyes flew open, and she sat up. No one was in the room.

_"A little jumpy, aren't we?" _

"This can't be happening," she said to herself.

_"Oh, but it is." _

"Get out of my head."

_"Now why, would I want to do that? As it is well known, your head is the only sanctuary you have left, and how else am I to break you if I do not take what is most dear?" _

Her hand flew to her mouth in horror and her eyes widened at the prospect.

_"Now then," _he continued_ "How does it feel?"_


	5. Awake in a Dream

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters are created from the genius of Ms. Rowling, and I think this chapter title is taken as well, could be a song…I forgot…the point is, that it isn't mine.

A/N: Okay folks so here it is, chapter five at your disposal. Just a heads up that this is what you guys'll have for oh, probably 3, 4 months due to school, work and the other trials of life. The next chapter and the following will all be devoted to the romance, so this is the last you'll see or hear from Petra and friends (in a while). Voldemort will still be there of course but not as often as I do wanna get this ball rolling. I've got big plans ppl. Big plans. So I'm gonna shut up now before I this ends up to be ch.6, and I hope you all will enjoy this. Also, please review. The more reviews, the faster i get the chapters up. Must...stop...typing..

* * *

Torn: Awake in a Dream

* * *

_Hermione._

There was a horrified scream and Harry bolted awake, sitting up in bed. His world was a blur of darkness and he blinked as he fumbled for his glasses. He was breathing heavily as if he had run a marathon and he ran his hands through his hair while struggling to remember what had jolted him awake.

Someone groaned. "S'wrong, Harry?" Ron mumbled sleepily as he slowly sat up.

Harry shook his head in confusion, all trace of sleep long gone. In vain, his mind tried to grasp his last thought that had surfaced in his dreams before he had suddenly awoken. But like a cool spring breeze, it slipped through his fingers. Something was wrong. He knew it.

"I dunno," Harry answered.

Ron yawned loudly. "Bad dream?"

"I think so."

"You think so?"

"I'm not so sure."

"Maybe it was something you ate."

"Yeah…maybe."

In his tired state, Ron failed to catch the worried note in Harry's voice. Ron yawed once more. "Go to sleep, mate." And with that, he settled back into bed, already fast asleep.

Harry sank onto his pillow, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fall back asleep. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him. He was missing something. Something was wrong. He stared at the ceiling, wondering what was the matter with him. _Must have been a nightmare, _he thought to himself._ Get over it._ His thoughts drifted and Hermione's face swam before his mind's eye.

He smiled.

"Ron!"

Harry quickly sat up in surprise, for the door had suddenly swung open and Parvati rushed into the room shouting, "Ron! Ron!" She flung open the curtains of one bed and a slew of curses sprang forth from a startled Seamus. Without an apology she quickly turned to the next.

"Ron Weasley! Where are you!"

Ron's flaming tousled hair was bathed in light from the open doorway.

"Wha- Who's calling?"

Parvati, hands on the already open curtains, turned at the sound of his voice and she hurried towards him, pulling him out of bed.

"Parvati?" a sleepy Dean sounded from the bed she had left.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, getting out of bed. He watched as Parvati struggled to pull Ron out of his own.

From Seamus' point of view it looked like she was trying to dislocate his shoulder. "Parvati? L-let go of me! Geroff!"

"Parvati, sweetheart, if you wanted it that bad, all you had to do was ask."

"Piss off, Seamus," Parvati snapped.

Harry thought he saw Dean glare in Seamus' direction as well, but Parvati caught his attention again as she said, "Ron! You have to come down! It's Hermione, she-"

But Ron, now wide awake had already stood up and was out the door.

Harry instantly appeared at Parvati side, catching a hold of her arm before she left. "What's wrong with Hermione?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"I don't know," Parvati told him. "She woke us up with her screaming. We tried calming her down but she keeps shouting at me to get Ron."

"Ron?"

"Yes. I don't know what's gotten into her, but she wants to see Ron,"

_Not me? _

"Is she hurt?" Harry asked already heading out the door.

"Not that I know of. She's only had a nightmare, Harry but she's pretty shaken up. Should I get professor McGonagall?"

"No. Let me see if she's-" he was going to say okay, but the sight of Hermione sobbing into a confused Ron's arms robbed Harry of all thought. Without warning a well of anger drenched him from head to toe while witnessing the scene unfolding before him. A red haze sprang before his eyes as he saw Ron comfortingly stroke her back and stare at clearly befuddled Lavender hovering at their sides with a handkerchief in hand.

Hermione's hands clutched Ron's shirt tightly as her shoulders shook in grief. In between sobs she cried, "D-don't let me go, R-Ron. D-don't l-leave me,"

Harry's hands, with a mind of their own, clenched into fists.

"I can't- I-I don't- H-he knows-not safe-"

"Hey, shhh, just relax Hermione. I'm right here. I'm not goin' anywhere. I'm right here."

Harry growled low in his throat at Ron's words.

Parvati briefly glanced at him, but in concern, she turned back to watch Hermione and followed Harry as he made his way down the stairs towards his best friends.

"H-He can't get hurt, Ron. It'll b-be my fault. A-all m-my fault!"

"Nothing's you're fault, Hermione. Everyone's fine. Look, Harry's here see?" "Hermione?"

At the sound of his voice, Hermione glanced up. Her eyes were red from crying and her face was wet with tears. Harry stood by the two of them and he sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving hers.

At first glance, Hermione gasped and clutched at Ron tightly as she scrambled away from Harry. "N-no. Go away!" The words seemed to pain her, but she uttered them just the same.

"Hermione? What's wrong?" Harry asked gently as he reached for her.

Hermione recoiled at his approaching hand and clutched Ron even tighter to her.

Harry brought his hand down and stood; his mind racing to figure out what he had done wrong.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head fiercely, muttering, "No! I-I won't let you!" She opened her eyes once more and said imploringly, "P-please, Harry. Go."

Ron looked in bewilderment to Hermione then Harry, and jumped at Hermione's next sudden, unexpected outburst.

"No! I won't let you hurt him!"

Her knuckles turned white as she clutched at Ron's shirt, scrambling away from Harry, and unconsciously pulling Ron with her. At the hurt look in Harry's eyes, Ron tried to gently pry Hermione's hands off him and said with forced calm, "Hermione, it's only Harry. You've had a bad dream, but you're awake now. It's okay. Everything's okay." He glanced with frightened eyes at Harry, but he never looked at him.

His face was a mask of emotions struggling to be set free. A look of one lost was came over his features and his eyes were filled with pain and confusion. He didn't know what had come over her, and he didn't know what to do.

Looking at her tear streaked face and shadowed eyes, he came to the conclusion that she was just tired. Hermione had lost her parents not that long ago and with the lingering grief and pressures of N.E.W.T.S. beating on her back, the nightmare she'd just had wouldn't help matters at all. He decided then that he wasn't going to leave her, no matter what she'd say. Resolved, he knelt before Hermione and placed a callused hand upon her soft cheek.

At his touch she opened her eyes.

"Hey, relax. You're tired and you've just had a bad dream."

"Is that all? Just a bad dream?" she whispered somewhat deliriously.

"Just a dream. You're awake now, love. It was just a dream."

He kept her eyes on his as he repeated his words and she visibly relaxed her hold on Ron. Gently, he picked her up and placed her on the arm chair. Harry heard Ron tell Lavender and Parvati to go back to bed. The two girls hesitated for a moment, hovering in the background, until Ron finally stood and started to usher them away, much to their protest. He led them to the stairs and away from Harry and Hermione.

"We can't just leave her," Parvati objected.

"Sure you can."

"But how can we leave, just like that?" said Lavender, pausing on the stairs.

"Easy. Just move one foot in front of the other. It's called walking. With a bit of practice, I'm sure you ladies will get the hang of it," Ron answered flippantly.

Parvati huffed, "You are the most insensitive, pig headed-"

Ron interrupted her with a raised hand and he gently pushed her up the stairs.

"Parvati, as much as I'd love to flirt with you right now, it's two o'clock in the morning and I have to get back to Hermione. She'll be _fine_. Don't worry, just go get some sleep."

Harry paid no mind to them. Taking her hand in his, he held it tightly and with his other he gently brushed her hair away from her eyes with the tips of his fingers. Harry knelt by the chair and watched as she fought a losing battle to stay awake.

"I thought…" she murmured, but Harry shushed her.

"It's alright. You're safe now, Hermione. You're safe."

With everyone gone, Ron turned and made his way back to Harry and Hermione. Hearing the words that Harry uttered next as Hermione began to slowly drift into slumber, Ron froze. He watched as Harry soothed her fears away, holding her hand, stroking her forehead tenderly and all the while whispering words he knew were meant for her ears alone.

"I'm here, love. I'm right here."

"You never used to call me that," Hermione murmured sleepily with a ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

Harry wondered if she was even aware of what she was saying. Her words were whispered so softly that he had to lean closer to hear her and he didn't mind this one bit.

"Call you what?" he asked.

"Love."

Harry smiled to himself at her barely audible answer yet he didn't reply and she didn't seem to need one. For as soon as the word was out of her mouth, her chest began to slowly rise and fall in slumber.

Ron walked up to them and sat on the floor swallowing a yawn. For a brief moment the two boys looked at each other wondering what had come over her, but they soon looked back at the girl sleeping in the arm chair and Harry continued to soothingly whisper words of comfort.

The fire danced in the hearth. All night they stayed there. The only sounds in the room were the crackling fire and Harry's whispered words. They never left her side.

* * *

The Dark Lord roared in anger. Wormtail winced and visibly shrank back in fear that his master would once again take his exploding anger out on him. Only moments later, eyes blazing, Voldemort stayed to his fears and Wormtail found himself as usual sprawled on the floor still reeling from the sudden yet expected blow.

"Why do I lose control of the child!" he thundered. "Why is it not stable!"

"M-maybe you need more blood my lord."

The Dark Lord stared daggers at his cowering servant.

"As you know Wormtail, the procedure will not work if we use too much. Seven is the maximum and seven we will use. I only have three more in stock until the last, and I will not waste a single drop!"

"Y-you can take another-"

"And have that bumbling fool onto my scheme!"

Wormtail swallowed and braced himself against the wall. There was a knock on the door and Collins' head appeared.

"Collins!" the Dark Lord barked, "How many times must I tell you notto interrupt me while I am Walking!"

"Er, sorry m'lord, but me an' Weber thought to let you know that we've got 'er," Collins said, wringing his hands in nervousness.

"Have you now?" Voldemort asked, all trace of anger disappeared.

"Er, yeah, we've put 'er in the room with the other ones,"

"Excellent."

The Dark Lord smiled and strode across the room towards the door, in his wake he called out to his servant struggling to stand.

"Wormtail, prepare another dosage. With Collins' and Weber's success it appears that we will continue the procedure again tonight when I return." He stopped in the doorway and with a flare of his eyes thick vines wrapped themselves around Wormtail, tightening their hold on him, attempting to cut off all circulation. His eyes bulged and his face turned red.

"And if I lose control once more," The vines tightened their hold on Wormtail, and a choking cry escaped from his mouth, "you will find yourself, in rather... _unfortunate_ circumstances. And we wouldn't want any accidents to happen now, would we?"

Feeling as if his lungs would burst, Wormtail managed to dart his eyes in answer. With a gleeful look from Collins, the door slammed shut behind them and without warning, the vines let their captive go. Wormtail dropped to the floor in a heap, clutching his throat, gagging and gasping for air.

* * *

"What's you're name?"

"Orla."

"Hello, Orla. I'm Petra. You're a year above me right?"

"Two."

"Oh," Petra forced a smile, and Orla wondered what kind of girl could smile in a place like this.

The man called Wormtail managed to get some candles in the room and in the flickering light, Orla got a good look at the girl kneeling by her. Her dark hair, uncombed hung in waves down her back. She was small and thin with dark brown eyes that were heavily shadowed. Cuts and bruises adorned her face and arms and much of her legs, and her Hogwarts robes were ripped and torn in various places. In such a state Orla was surprised that the young girl could even remember how to smile.

Her amazement was short lived however when Petra took hold of her arm. A line of white hot fire shot through her and she cried out in pain.

"Sorry!" Petra said, but held the girl's arm steady in hers before Orla could yank it away. "I need you to keep still. You've got a nasty gash on your arm."

"Really? I didn't notice." Orla, wincing, said sarcastically through clenched teeth.

Petra beckoned to another girl to fetch the bowl of water. Yet another gift from the man named Wormtail.

"It's not that clean but it'll have to do. Now hold still, this is gonna hurt like hell."

A strangled cry tore from her throat, but she held fast.

Petra tore off a shred of material from her shirt and began to tie it around the wound. "It's the best I can do," Petra said with a weak smile.

"Where did you learn how to do this?"

"My mum's a doctor."

"A medi-wizard? Does she work at St Mungo's?"

"No, she's a Muggle doctor. The best there is."

"Oh," was all Orla could manage to say casting an uncertain glance at ragged tourniquet. After an awkward moment she added, "That's nice."

Petra chuckled. "My dad's the wizard in our family. My mum had a fit when she found out."

Orla managed to suppress her smile at this comment.

"I think me mum was a Muggle as well. Well that's what me foster mum tells me anyway."

She glanced at the other girl curled up in her corner, and the one who had brought the water bowl. A third sat not far away, picking at her robes. The first quickly averted her eyes and buried further into the shadows, but not before Orla noticed something about her. The girl's right ear was completely gone, and in its place was a bloody crusted mess.

"My God, what happened to her?" Orla made to get up and walk over to the child, but Petra held her back.

"Her name is Lisa. She's a Hufflepuff, second year. Lisa must have heard something that she wasn't supposed to so You-Know-Who did that to her. She's been there ever since."

"Why haven't you-"

"I tried. Believe me, I have. But she wouldn't let me touch it."

There was a moment of silence, before Orla slowly stood up, shaking Petra's hand off her. Lisa scrambled to get away, and pressed herself up against the cold, stone wall. Her eyes were shut tight and Orla could hear her whimpering slightly.

"Hey," She managed to lay a trembling hand on the crouched figure, "we'll be okay. I'll get you out of here. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, mate," the girl who had brought the bowl spoke up, her voice dripping with cynicism. Having a good look at her, Orla came to recognize her as Emma Dobbs; a girl in her year.

She raised her chin in defiance as she said, "I am _not _going to die in _here._"

"We _all_ are!" Emma declared in a hard voice. "Those bastards'll bleed us until we're drained. They take us one by one, and each time we don't have a bleeding clue if the time we spent in this room was our last."

"They won't take _me._"

"Oh yes they will, Quirke," Emma ignored Lisa's whimpering and soft sobs at her words. Petra crawled over and soothed the sobbing girl as the Gryffindor continued, "and this time you don't have your sodding books to save you. We are all going to _die._ Maybe not today, but soon. Whenever it tickles You-know-who's fancy, he'll come to call."

"Stop it, Emma. You're not doing any good."

"Oh like you have anything to worry about. They're not going to kill _you._"

At this Petra's eyes blazed as she shook with barely controlled rage.

"You have no _idea _what I have to go through out there. So don't bloody tell me that I have no worries, because I have _plenty. _There's things worse than death, Emma. Far worse," Orla felt a knot of fear from the intensity of Petra's voice and words. "I know that all of us are probably not going to make it. Yes, we're going to die, but by God, I am _not _going to let any of us go down without a fight. If and when the chance to escape comes along, it'll be _me, _Emma, not anyone else, who'll close the door behind us. I won't leave anyone behind. No one."

The candle light flickered, casting long, ominous shadows along the walls.

"My hero," Orla joked, trying to lighten up the dark mood.

"Someone's coming," the third girl announced and the room went quiet once again.

Unconsciously, Orla pressed herself closer to Petra who held the whimpering girl tighter to her. Emma scurried along the wall to join them and the girl that had spoken followed suit so that when the door opened it revealed the five girls huddled together and squinting in the bright light.

"Good morning, ladies. Are you enjoying your stay?" the Dark Lord mocked as he stood in the light with his arms folded behind his back. Collins and Weber snickered in the background.

"Would you like me to get you anything? Some food perhaps? A drink of water? Oh, no, I see saint Wormtail has done that for you already. How about an owl home? No? Well then I'll be needing one of you for tonight."

Emma's grip on Orla tightened painfully.

"It seems I can't get enough of our late night rendezvous. Now then who shall it be?" His eyes scanned the trembling mass of bodies and rested on Lisa.

"Well, it seems we have a winner."

Lisa screamed.

"NO!" Petra shouted and clutched at the girl who was pulled away from her by invisible arms.

Lisa clutched at Petra's robes but with a final tug she was torn away. The young girl wailed and shouted words of nonsense and all the while Orla stared at her; willing what strength she had into the doomed, screaming girl.

"I'm sorry," Orla whispered in broken sobs. She and the others watched helplessly as the Dark Lord, with a wave of his wand pulled the wide eyed girl towards him. He leaned into Lisa and whispered loud enough so the others could hear.

"We'll be needing all of it my dear, so I hope goodbyes are in order."

A blood curdling scream tore from Lisa's throat, as she sobbed helplessly. The last Orla saw of the girl was her bright blue fearful eyes looking straight into her own grey ones before she was pulled away by those invisible arms into the blinding light.

Weber came into the room and dragged a fighting Petra out also.

"Stop struggling, sweetheart. You know the drill."

The Dark Lord, his black figure outlined in the light continued in a drawling voice, "Collins, for a job well done why don't you welcome our most recent guest, Miss Quirke. Take as long as you want." With that he strode out, leaving the girls with the hulking Death Eater.

"With _pleasure, _m'lord."

Orla's insides froze and her fingers dug into Emma's arms.

"No," Orla breathed in terror. She kicked at her assailant and tugged away from his iron grip on her wrist but to no avail.

"Oh it won't 'urt much, poppet. Just close your eyes and think of somethin' oh, warm and fuzzy like," Collins chuckled ruthlessly.

"Emma!"

"Get you're hands off her, you bastard!"

"You wait you're turn, girl!" Collins backhanded the girl, and she went sprawling onto the floor.

"If you're lucky, the Dark Lord might allow me to spend some quality time with you too poppet- Oy! Quit your figetin'!" The last part was directed to Orla who, in a frenzy after seeing Emma hit, tired to bite, kick and punch him. Collins hauled the screaming Ravenclaw amidst Emma's shouts of "Bastard! Wanker! Let her go! LET HER GO!"

"EMMA!"

The door shut behind them muffling Orla's futile screams and Collin's vehement oath after a well aimed kick, leaving the two girls once again bathed in the soft, eerie glow of the candle light. Muffled sobs and soothing whispers once again echoed within the room.

* * *

She couldn't be near him. It was too dangerous. Yet how could she stay away? It was all too confusing, what she was feeling and recent circumstances didn't make the situation any better. Was he still there, silent and biding his time waiting for her to let her guard down? She almost laughed aloud at such a notion. Voldemort would have no need of hiding in the shadows when he could very well use brute force to break through the simple wall she built in futile. He could have very well gotten through and could be listening to her very thoughts. He could be seeing through her right now, looking at the students sitting at their various tables, blissfully eating and talking without a care in the world.

Not for the first time, Hermione thought that they were lucky. It still baffled her to think that the Dark Lord could be residing in her mind, let alone be control her every thought, every action, every word. Good Lord, could what she was thinking at the moment be her own?

She glanced down at her full plate, not sure if this action was of her own accord. Her heart began pounding at the thoughts of what havoc she could wreak. She was the smartest witch at Hogwarts and she prided herself knowing this, with a smug smile clinging to her lips whenever it called for such an occasion. Now however, was not the time for an inkling of satisfaction. Her knowledge and the power she had gained from such knowledge could very well lead to the destruction of not only her friends, but probably Hogwarts as well. Such a thought was not a welcome one to mull over hot porridge. Hermione took a breath and shut her eyes.

_One step at a time, Granger. First thing's first. Harry. _ She knew that if she had any ounce of will power left she had to put it to good use, and the first thing she had to do was to push Harry away. _It has to be done. I can't let him get hurt. He's been through so much already, and if I can save him, then it'll be enough. _She swallowed knowing the consequences of such an action. She wasn't sure if she could do it, for Hermione knew that if she were to save Harry, she must forget him. She must cut him off completely.

The thought of even attempting to do so made her sick. Her second thought made her want to burst into tears because if she were to truly protect the people she loves then that would mean cutting them all off.

She had to be alone.

Sudden, unexpected anger flared through her. There had to be another way. Distancing herself couldn't be the only solution. The question was, what _was_ the solution? The first thing that popped in her head almost made her smile.

The Library.

Hermione knew that this among other things would be one of the many places she would miss the most after graduation. There had to be something there, a book, a spell, explaining how the Dark Lord could even accomplish such a feat of control. There had to be another solution other than separation, and she would find it.

"_Don't be so sure, child." _

Hermione grit her teeth his sudden intrusion.

"Go away," Hermione muttered.

A few seats away, Dennis Creevy glanced up at her wearily and she gave him a forced smile.

"_Are you talking to yourself now? That cannot be good for your sanity." _

"I said, go."

"_I'd rather not. I actually like it here. You see, from this angle I can see and hear everything and I quite like the power." _

"You don't deserve any of it."

"_On the contrary, my dear, I deserve _all _of it." _

Hermione's grip on her spoon tightened.

"_I just cannot understand why I did not think of this earlier." _

The Dark Lord's laugh echoed in her head, and Hermione shuddered.

A burst of laughter exploded from the opposite end of the room and her head jerked up at the sound, her eyes darting nervously. A group of students laughing at a joke hooted with laughter at the Ravenclaw table, blissfully unaware of what was brewing right under their noses.

She envied their ignorance.

"_Where is Harry, I wonder. Surely you don't think that your petty idea would stop me from taking the boy?" _

Her blood went cold. So he _was_ there all along. Her eyes narrowed as she said fiercely, "I won't let you take him." With this, she received a few weird stares from few passers by entitling them to an unexpected shout of "Bugger off, why don't you!"

Still fuming, Hermione pushed her food around with her spoon.

"_Temper, temper Miss Granger. You had better be more tactful, or people will most certainly think that you have finally snapped." _

Hermione was about to reply but her ears perked at the familiar sound of mirth coming from the entrance to the Great Hall.

_Harry._

Glancing in this general direction, she quickly sent her gaze back down to her bowl but not before Voldemort announced, _"Ah, the main attraction has finally decided to make its appearance." _

"Stay away from him," Hermione whispered shakily, shutting her eyes.

"_Then, I believe that would mean for you to do so as well." _

Her jaw clenched at this and soon relaxed at the peaceful silence that quickly ensued after this last statement. She opened her eyes, one after another.

_He's gone. _

She let out a breath that she'd been holding in for so long as soon as the mad conversation had begun. She knew however with much trepidation that this silence would not go on for long, but she will make use of her freedom no matter how small.

Looking up, she watched Harry and Ron make their way to the table. Ron was gesturing wildly, and it was no secret that the reason for Harry's laughter must be whatever wild tale Ron was relaying at the moment. Hermione sighed, as she drank in the sight of the two of them. Fearing that this would be her last chance to see them in such a carefree state, she devoured as much as she could of this memory of them. It would be different now. It had to be. She had to discover what it was exactly that allowed the Dark Lord to take such a hold on her, and the only way to protect Harry from any further harm that she could cause would be to have to cut him off from her life. _He'll understand. _She thought once the two of them caught sight of her. Harry's welcoming smile made her breath catch in her throat.

_He has to. _

Harry and Ron took a seat.

"Morning, Hermione! Feeling better?" Harry asked.

"Yes," she answered.

"I'm starved, can you pass me the marmalade?"

Her heart clenched at her next words, "Ron, pass Harry the marmalade."

"Er, sure, but you're closer to it, aren't you?"

"No. I'm not."

Puzzled, Ron stretched his arm out to reach jar of marmalade by Hermione's elbow. "Are you alright, Hermione? Looks like you haven't eaten a thing," Harry commented. "I'm fine. And how would you know if I've eaten anything or not? You just got here," Hermione dismissed.

"Well, er, yeah but I was just concerned-"

"Well, now you have nothing to be concerned with. I'll be in the library," she said curtly, and greeting Ginny, who had just arrived, with a fleeting smile, she gathered up her books, stood up and left without a word. At her departing back, she heard Ron utter, "What's gotten into her?"

_Forgive me Harry.

* * *

_

The only warning that Draco had before a red tipped figure went crashing into him was a shout of "Thanks Professor!" Moments later one of the Weasleys, he was sure it was Ginny, barrelled into him without thought. The force sent her spinning, and the air was soon filled with various sheets of parchment, books and a slew of curses.

"I'm so sorry, I-"

"Watch where you're going Weasley!" Draco roared.

Hearing this, and catching sight of the harassed looking boy standing before her, Ginny caught herself and frowned.

"I didn't know you were going to be here, Malfoy or I'd have run in the other direction."

"I do _go _to this school Weasley, and next time look ahead and not at the floor. Won't find spare galleons that way."

"Why? You've had a look around, yourself?" Ginny spat scathingly.

"Don't need to Weasley. Unlike you, my family makes an _honest _living."

"Oh, so that explains why your dad's in prison," she answered with mock sweetness.

Without warning, Draco's hands went around her arms like a vise and he pushed her up against the wall saying, "Watch it Weasley. Diggory was first. You could be next. Now that the Dark Lord's up and about, won't be too long before all the Mudbloods'll get what's coming to them."

"I'm not Muggle born, Malfoy," her voice was steely and she held Draco's threatening gaze with her own. The two were dangerously close and Ginny unwillingly came to notice that her face was just inches from his. She was surprised and slightly weary when she noticed that his gaze drifted to her lips.

"But you do _like _them, don't you?" he said dangerously.

"Let go of me."

"And if I don't?" Draco raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Ginny?" A female voice sounded, not too far away.

In an instant, Draco calmly stepped away from her with a mocking bow. Ginny scowled at him in response then turned and smiled to find Luna staring at the two of them and at the mess at their feet.

"Hi."

"Hello. Where were you? You just disappeared," Luna asked, still looking suspiciously at a smirking Draco, who picked up his books and walked away with an arrogant swagger.

"Sorry, Luna," Ginny started to pick up the sheets of parchment and Luna bent down to help her. "McGonagall came and wanted to talk to me about Harry."

"What about Harry?"

"He's back on the team," Ginny answered, grinning.

"That's wonderful!"

"I know, I've got to tell him."

Ginny explained the entire conversation while they walked the rest of the way to the Great Hall, she did so mostly out of excitement for Harry, but also to forget those silver eyes piercing into her own.

With an exclamation, Luna suddenly stopped in her tracks.

"What is it?"

"I just remembered! I forgot something in my room! I'll see you in class, okay?"

"Alright."

She spotted Harry, Ron and Hermione already seated. Hermione didn't look too well. Ginny watched her talk to Ron, and saw the surprised look on her brother's face as he reached for the marmalade and handed it to Harry.

_I wonder what's going on. _

Putting on a cheerful face, she walked to the table unaware of the most unlikely pair of grey eyes following her every move.

* * *

She had the funny feeling that she was being watched. Looking up from a particularly heavy book, she glanced up to see a boy about her age dressed in Slytherin robes watching her. He stood by another shelf with a book in his hand. Hermione glanced around her nervously to see if she was mistaken and that he was looking at someone else, but she soon found that she was the only one in her section.

"Can I help you?" she asked, but was only granted with silence. "Do you need help find anything?" she ventured and he shook his head in response.

An awkward silence stretched between them for a few moments before Hermione said with a friendly smile, "Alright…well, bye then." Giving him a weary look, she quickly grabbed the books she needed and sat at an empty table. With a sigh, she spread the heavy tombs around her and began to read.

"That's her isn't it?"

"Where?"

"At the table by the corner. Part of her face is covered by that stack of books." Hermione saw a blonde girl about three years younger than her slowly rise out of her seat and craned her neck to get a better look at her. Her friend, a dark haired boy with a bad acne problem grabbed a handful of her robes and pulled her down quickly saying, "Are you mad, Susan? She can see you!"

"I just wanted to have a look," the girl named Susan protested.

Annoyed, Hermione looked up at her and raised her eyebrows questioningly. Abashed, the girl flushed and fussed with her plait, staring at her friend and not daring to look anywhere else.

After a few moments of silence, in which Hermione went back to her reading, Susan began to whisper rather loudly once again.

"It _is _her, Michael! She doesn't look that bad. Seems to be doing rather well, considering what she's been through."

"I hear it was You-know–who that done her parents in."

"No!" Susan gasped with surprise, earning her a stern look from Madam Pince. Growing beet red once again, she mumbled her apologies.

"Well she _is _Harry Potter's best friend. Who else would he be after, what with him having no one else close to him."

"What about that red headed giant that hangs around him all the time?"

"Who, Ron? Well, he's next isn't he?"

"Next for _what, _exactly?" a deep voice sounded.

Michael and Susan jumped and looked up to find a boy who they were sure was in seventh year, towering over them. Neville eyed the two fourth years with disgust.

"The library is no place for gossip, I think and Ron Weasley happens to be a good friend of mine. So if you two happen to know any troubles that'll come his way, you'll be sure to tell me, yeah?"

Michael nodded wordlessly in answer, his eyes as huge and round as saucers.

Neville nodded at them and walked over to Hermione, books in hand. With a slight smile on his face he smothered a chuckle as he thought, _Blimey, that moment was probably the first time I've ever had someone look at me in nervousness. Not very satisfying, that._ Behind him, the two scurried out of the library.

"Hello," he greeted Hermione cheerfully, "this seat taken?"

"No, not at all."

"That for Professor Wellington's class?" Neville asked, spreading his books before him and pointing at Hermione's.

"What? Oh, this? No, just some light reading."

Neville gave her an incredulous look at her choice of words.

"_That _hardly looks to be a bit of light reading, Hermione."

"This is actually very interesting, Neville. Did you know that-"

Neville held his hands up good naturedly, interrupting her.

"No. I'm sorry Hermione, but please I've got to finish this for Professor Snape and if I forget my train of thought I won't get anything done."

A bit miffed, Hermione asked, "This isn't last minute, I hope."

"Oh, no. Actually I'm trying to get ahead. What with Professor McGonagall's project to finish, and Professor Flitwick's experiment I don't think I'll have any time for the research I need to get done for Professor Sprout."

"You really like Herbology, don't you Neville?"

At this, Neville quit rifling through his books and parchment, and grinned.

"I love it. Now, where did my quill go?"

Hermione pulled a spare out of her bag and handed it to Neville.

"Thanks, so how are you doing?"

"Well, I think with a bit more revising, I'll be alright for my N.E.W.T.S."

"God, don't remind me. Actually I meant, er, well… your parents, and uh… how are you doing…with that…" Neville rubbed the back of his neck nervously and kept his eyes down.

Hermione smiled sadly at him knowing full well what he had meant the first time. She cleared her throat before placing her hand on his in thanks.

"I'm alright, Neville. Thank you."

With a relieved look, Neville said reassuringly, "Well, if you're ever feeling slightly under the weather, you know that you can talk to me right? Because well, er," he continued in a quiet voice looking her in the eye, "I…I do know a thing or two about loss."

Hermione looked at him with a hint of sadness in her eyes, touched at his concern.

After a few beats of silence, Neville cleared his throat and opened his books.

"So, you know… I'm here."

At that moment, Hermione almost told Neville everything. The voices, the shadows, her fears and even her mixed up feelings for Harry and her plans to push him away.

"_Do you honestly think that Longbottom will believe you? You've just lost your parents, child and to many of your peer's eyes, you are a wreck. Not only will he pity you, but he will also think of talking to one of your dear professors. And I simply cannot have him talking to the wrong people, Granger. I've done away with two Longbottoms already. It would be wise not to endanger the third." _

Inside she was crying helplessly, but on the outside she was smiling freely looking as if she had not a care in the world.

"I know, Neville. Don't worry, I'm fine," she answered him, inwardly raging against the dark force in her mind making her lie to the people she cared about. She knew what she had to do to Harry, and she dreaded the separation. Neville's care was a small comfort, but it was something.

"Well, I better get working. Don't want to end up in detention, or lose any points."

Neville once again looked through his things, under the table and around his chair having now seemed to have misplaced the quill he had borrowed.

"Where did that quill go?"

* * *

Something was wrong. For two weeks Hermione had been ignoring him. She seemed distant, and every time he drew close to her a disgusted look came over her features. Harry just couldn't understand it. He wondered what he had done to make her act this way, and at her every disdainful look that he never knew would ever be pointed in his direction, he fought to hide the hurt he knew would shine through.

The three of them were walking back to the castle after another eventful class with Hagrid, who looked even more haggard than ever. Hermione was talking animatedly with Ron, thinking that her rouse to ignore the dark haired shadow that trailed slightly behind her went unnoticed. Ron however noticed everything, and every now and then he would look to Harry with a slight raise of his eyebrows asking what was going on. In answer to this, Harry would just shrug and shake his head, just as confused as Ron was. Hermione either did not notice this frequent exchange or just didn't care.

At Ron's many attempts to bring Harry into the conversation, Hermione would grow quiet, and would only smile or nod politely, but never look at Harry. Her gaze would either be directed at the castle, on the ground, or at Ron, who guiltily liked her attention. Harry listened quietly while she once again reprimanded Ron for not being as organized as he should be.

"Our N.E.W.T.S. are swiftly approaching, Ron. How can you even think to pass of you're not prepared?"

"Well that's where you come in, right Harry?" Ron answered and tried to bring Harry into the conversation once again. Instead Harry only smiled and nodded, looking at his feet. _Definitely _not_ the way to get a girl, mate. _Ron thought with an inward shake of his head.

He noted that Hermione ignored Harry completely and was puzzled by this. She was fine two weeks ago. It wasn't until the morning after her nightmare that things started changing, and he wondered what it was exactly that had her so rattled that night.

The three of them continued to walk in this manner, when Hermione tripped on her own feet and would have gone sprawling had it not been for Harry instinctively taking hold of her arm and steadying her.

Expecting a word of thanks and a look in his direction, Harry was completely taken aback when she recoiled at his touch and rounded on him, eyes blazing.

"Don't touch me!" she shouted.

Ron stared, surprised at Hermione's unexpected and strange reaction while Harry stepped back from her unrelenting glare.

"I was just-"

"I know what you were _just _doing, and when I need your help, I'll ask for it," she snapped. "I'm _not _a damsel in distress, Harry and I can take care of myself without your grubby hands clinging onto me."

"I didn't say you were a dam-"

"I don't care what you think! I don't want you touching me," she continued in a condescending tone, sending Harry further into the depths of confusion.

"In fact, I don't want you even _near _me. I've been thinking, Harry. I have a full life ahead and I won't let a petty thing like our friendship destroy it. I made the mistake of taking your hand in our first year and my parents paid dearly for it, but I won't make that mistake again."

Completely forgetting Ron, she placed all of her focus on Harry for the first time that day. The reason for her attention however, was not what Harry had hoped for.

Sharp knives sliced through him and with every word and every look they wrenched out with such excruciating pain that it rendered him speechless.

"Go wherever you want to go and do whatever you like because I no longer care what happens to you Harry and I never will."

Harry struggled to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Now why don't you just bugger off and go save some person, since that's all you're meant to do anyway," she finished with a smirk.

In an instant Harry's face darkened, his eyes narrowed in anger and his jaw clenched.

"Fine. I'll go. I'm tired of your endless nagging anyway," he snarled and angrily stalked off.

Hermione watched him go, with a mask of disdain plastered on her features and she appeared so engrossed that Ron startled her by grasping onto her shoulders and spinning her around.

"That was uncalled for, Hermione," said Ron.

She only raised her eyebrows in answer.

"Was it? Or was it exactly what he needed to hear?"

Her response caused him to worry about her even more.

"What's gotten into you?"

_More than you can imagine. _

"The truth," she answered instead.

"You don't mean that."

"Try me."

Bewildered, Ron simply stared at her, waiting for Hermione's face to break into a smile and Harry to return with a laugh, finding that all of this was just a joke. And a terrible one at that. But Harry's form disappeared in the distance, and Hermione levelled her unrelenting stare with his. There was no laughter, no sudden smile.

A burst of wind slammed into them, causing Ron to shiver and pull his scarf tighter around him. Hermione turned and started making her way back without him.

"Where're you going?"

"We're going to freeze to death just standing out here and unlike you I'm hungry."

Once inside, she shook the snow off herself and made to turn and walk to the Great Hall, when someone caught her eye. Hunching her shoulders she said, "I just remembered, I need to go to the library for something. I'll see you later."

"But I thought you hungry."

"I changed my mind."

Hermione waved as she walked away, leaving Ron standing in the hall.

With a shake of his head, he strode through the entrance of the Great Hall and Draco purposely collided into his side almost sending him off balance.

"Watch it, Malfoy."

"What, Weasley? Forgot how to walk already? Must be nerves for the upcoming game. I heard Potter is back on the team," Draco scoffed and Ron's ears turned red in anger. "A futile attempt at making up for your abysmal goal keeping skills I gather."

Ron clenched his fists in anger, and was about to snarl back a threat when, with a smirk on his face, Draco turned and walked away. Ron turned to find Professor McGonagall's sharp eye on him and throwing a dark look at Draco's retreating back, he grudgingly made his way to the Gryffindor table.

* * *

He was following her. _Probably has nothing better to do. _Hermione thought, but she still picked up her pace. She had tried to avoid him, but no matter where she was he was always there, watching but never saying a word. _A Slytherin trick. He's trying to scare me, but it won't work. _

She could hear his echoing footsteps ever at her heels. She didn't know who he was, and she wasn't sure what year he was in. Did he even go to this school? Hermione shook the silly notion out of her head. Of course the boy went to Hogwarts. How else would he have gotten here, adorned in Slytherin dress? She must have never noticed him before that was all. It was a big school and one can't know everyone in it. Still, it was very unsettling having him follow her everywhere. What was even weirder was the fact that he wouldn't say a word. Of course she would never attempt to strike a conversation with him, but still, not a jab nor a shot came forth from his thin lips and this she knew was not normal for a Slytherin.

Hermione contemplated if he was different from the others, but her notions were dashed at the sound of an all too familiar voice behind her, and turning she found that the boy was just one of Malfoy's cronies.

"Well if it isn't the mudblood. Where are your shadows, Granger? They finally realize what an annoying little beggar you are, and scampered away?"

"It's that Slytherin smell that stinks up the halls. They had to leave before they suffocated."

Crabbe snarled, and Goyle took a menacing step forward but Malfoy stopped him by putting out his arm.

"It's not as bad as the mudblood stench. That can linger on you for hours."

Crabbe and Goyle laughed, while third the boy smirked at Draco's remark.

Hermione's face grew red but she quickly snapped back, "Shouldn't the four of you be off somewhere grooming yourselves?"

Draco brought a hand to his heart with a mocking look of pain on his face.

"Oh, that smarted, Granger. Really, that did."

"I don't have time for this," she commented with a wave of her hand and turned away.

"Potter looked a bit angry today. He wouldn't talk to anyone, not even his precious weasel. Is there a little argument amongst the Golden Children, Granger?"

"That's none of your business."

"Guess again, Granger. I don't know what you're doing, but whatever it takes to push Potter over the edge, I'll be happy to help."

"Sod off Malfoy."

"Another crushing comeback from the mudblood. You're on a roll, Granger," Draco drawled before he departed.

"Hermione?"

Hermione glanced behind her to find Parvati staring strangely at her.

"What?"

"Are you alright?"

Hermione sighed in frustration. "I'm _fine _Parvati. Why does everyone keep on asking me this?"

"We're only worried, love. That's all," Parvati answered gently.

With these words Hermione seemed to relax somewhat, but was still slightly confused because Parvati continued to stare strangely at her.

"Sorry I snapped."

"Don't be. Who were you talking to, just now?"

"Oh, it was only Malfoy. Must have had nothing better to do and saw me walking by. You know how he is."

Parvati nodded slowly and looked behind her at the empty hallway. The strange look still clung to her features.

"Well, I'll see you in class. I've got to head to the library," Hermione exclaimed as she walked past Parvati.

"Yeah," she answered distantly, "see you."

Turning, she stared at the back of her roommate of seven years, speculating who it was that she had been really talking to and why she had to lie about it; for it couldn't have been Malfoy, as he was lounging outside with Crabbe and Goyle. She should know because she had just come inside still seething from an argument with the annoying Slytherin.

_Who were you talking to, Hermione? _


	6. Who do you sing for?

DISCLAIMER: Nothing belongs to me, except for Petra, Collins and Weber

A/N: Sorry for the long wait guys. Let me know what you think.

* * *

"Stop fighting," Harry breathed into her ear as he kissed his way down the column of her neck, sending shivers through her. "You want me just as much."

Hermione whimpered in answer.

"Let it happen, love. Let it come."

Her senses were heightened to every aspect of him. His smell. His voice. She could feel his feather light kisses dragging tantalizingly across her skin. She could feel his hands trailing blazing fires along her cheek, her throat, her abdomen. Arching against him, her lips brushed against his ear as she whispered his name; part fervent plea, part anguished refusal.

Lost in every breath of him, always wanting more, she wrapped her arms around him and reached for what she craved for with her entire being.

"Let me inside you," Harry moaned in a heated whisper before her lips finally claimed his.

She opened her eyes.

A sheet of white tile filled her vision. Strings of dripping hair fell over her eyes and she pushed it away with a heavy sigh. Hermione braced her hands on the wall before her, and shut her eyes for mere moments before forcing them open once more. She could still see him, hear him, feel him. It all seemed so real.

The water beat upon her back as she rested her head against the cold wall, desperately chasing away the remnants of her dream. She had awoken, damp with perspiration, clutching the bed sheets. His name on her lips still rang in her ears and she shut her eyes in shame.

_I have more control than this. _

Hermione turned off the shower lest they thought she was attempting to drown herself and quickly dressed. Parvati, rubbing her eyes, sleepily mumbled her greetings and shut the washroom door behind her. Lavender was just climbing out of bed.

"Hello."

"Morning."

Lavender stifled a yawn and raked her fingers through her hair.

"You're up early."

"I couldn't sleep," Hermione said as she picked up her brush on her bed table.

"I heard."

The brush froze mid stroke.

"You did?"

"Mmmhmm," Lavender sounded as she rummaged through her trunk for clothing.

Hermione forced her growing embarrassment down and kept all pretence of indifference. "What, er, did you hear, exactly?"

"Oh, nothing. Well nothing important anyway -should I wear the blue do you think?"

"Sure." She bit her lip. "So it was nothing important. Right."

Lavender turned and smiled reassuringly. "Relax, love. It was nothing embarrassing if that's what you're getting at," she shrugged and placed the items of clothing in front of her as she modeled before the mirror. "I talk in my sleep as well if that makes you feel better."

"Quite."

"Though I did hear a certain someone mentioned," Lavender exclaimed with a cheeky smile in her direction.

"Oh, Lord."

"Then again, it's none of my business if something is going on between the two of you-"

"Nothing is going o-"

"Now that's exactly what I gathered, what with the current formalities or lack thereof."

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked incredulously, the brush now completely forgotten in her hands.

"I'm not blind, Hermione. If you want him, indifference is not the way to catch him."

"Are you completely insane? I absolutely do _not _fancy Harry. We're just frie- erm, recent events should clearly show my feelings for him."

"Hmm, yes."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, 'recent events' clearly show that you're in denial," Lavender put simply.

"I am _not._"

"Oh, really? Well then, since you don't fancy Harry, I guess you wouldn't mind me going out with him."

The very idea of such a thing placed a sour taste in Hermione's mouth and she began to run the brush through her hair once again. She swallowed hard before she answer stiffly, "Really, Lavender, you're free to ask him out if you choose."

Lavender pursed her lips in thought, her eyes twinkled merrily. "Then again, I don't believe there's a point, seeing as he's completely infatuated with another girl." She could just see Hermione bursting with the effort to hold her curiosity in. Her jerking movements with the hair brush displayed her blatant agitation.

After a few agonizing moments in which Lavender thought Hermione was going to snatch herself bald, there was a sniff followed by an indifferent: "Really? Who?"

"You."

_She could feel his hands trailing blazing fires along her cheeks, her throat, her abdomen…"Let me inside you." _

Hermione blinked.

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard."

Lavender finally turned to face her, eyebrows raised.

"Is it?"

The door opened in a burst of steam and an extremely refreshed and wide awake Parvati strode out.

"Are you two ready for the big game?"

"I will be once you let me have a turn in the shower."

"It's all yours. Are you alright, Hermione? You look a bit flushed."

"Oh, I'm fine," Hermione said, forcing a smile.

"You must be worried about Harry-"

"Something like that," Hermione mumbled under her breath as Parvati continued, "-He'll be alright. I know he hasn't played in quite some time but, well, he's Harry. He's been through worse right?"

"Of course," Hermione winced, expecting a retort, but was met with only silence in her head. It was wondrous.

"Well," Lavender said, finally coming out of the washroom. "Let's be off shall we?"

* * *

The sun was in his eyes. He squinted and glanced at the Gryffindor stands in hopes to be rid of the piercing glare. A pair of eyes met his, sending a sudden jolt through him and he tore his gaze away, flustered. Harry shook his head to rid his mind of everything but the game at hand. A shrill sound rang in his ears and he kicked off the ground. The wind rushed through him, tossing his hair about. Immediately his eyes began to scan the pitch, searching for a spot of gold. High above the stands, high over the raised heads, and squinting eyes he was a swirling speck of crimson circling the skies.

"Watch it, Harry!" Colin shouted and Harry swerved to the right, barely dodging the bludger aimed at his head. He shook his hair out of his eyes and continued to scan the pitch. To his right he saw Malfoy's eyes dart to and for as he too scanned the area like a hawk. Not a cloud dusted the sky, and Harry revelled in the feeling of being absolutely free. It was here, in the sky, on his broom, circling the pitch, where he could dash all his troubles and dwell only in finding that one elusive speck of gold. It was here where he could push all thoughts of a certain brown eyed witch out of his mind. For in the safety of the sky he had only one goal in mind. Get the snitch. So whenever Malfoy's voice managed to carry itself across the din, Harry only clenched his jaw and continued to search madly for the prize. Whenever a bludger whizzed by him, barely missing a much needed body part, he'd only shake it off and continue to search. And whenever a certain head of bushy hair caught his eye, he'd tear his gaze away and berate himself for his weakness. He'd rise higher in the sky, eyes forcibly scanning the pitch with fervour. This said action happened twice more until out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the familiar golden glow.

He dove after it.

All sound faded into nothing as Harry weaved around the players, and sank low onto his broom to avoid a bludger aimed in his direction. To the spectators he was nothing but a red blur whizzing around the goal posts. He shot to the sky, the snitch in plain sight. His hair whipped across his face. His robes billowed behind him and he raced towards his prize. "Come on, just a bit further," he urged his broom. Without thought he raised himself over the broom. With one arm keeping him steady, he threw the other out towards the snitch, fingers barely grazing its golden surface.

"Bit more."

He was mildly aware of Colin shouting at him, and from the corner of his eye a haze of green made a sharp turn to the left. The muscles in his arm ached with strain as he stretched towards the prize. With a grunt, and a final swipe he managed to catch a hold of the snitch, its silvery wings fluttering feebly in his grasp.

A series of groans were drowned out by a deafening roar and Harry immediately became aware of an overwhelming feeling rising within his chest. A smile began to touch the corners of his mouth.

Then a hard object collided with the side of his head, snapping it to the side, twisting him off his broom and knocking him senseless.

* * *

The doors to the infirmary burst open.

"Excuse me Madame Pomfrey but I'm here to see-"

"Harry. Yes, I know. Just find the bed swarming with students," Madam Pomfrey answers with a sigh, "and as I've told every visitor who has walked through these doors, you have ten minutes with the boy. Merlin knows he needs his rest though I don't know how he'll attain any with all of you crowding the area."

Colin sputtered his thanks and made his way to a bed circled with crimson. "H-How is he?" Colin asked, pushing up the sleeves of his robe.

Ron turned to him, his face pale. "Madame Pomfrey says he'll be okay. Cracked skull, but nothing that she can't fix."

"It's all my fault. I should have got it."

"Don't be stupid, Colin. It's that git who sent the bludger."

"It's no one's fault, Ron. It was an accident. Crabbe hit the bludger long before Harry caught the snitch."

Colin looked up to see an equally pale Hermione standing at the opposite side of the bed.

"What, you're sticking up for that Slytherin git now, Hermione? God, I never knew the day would come when you'd stand by a Slytherin instead of your best friend."

"I am not standing by a Slytherin," Hermione huffed with flushed cheeks.

"Then what are you doing making excuses for bleeding Crabbe then, eh?" Ron shouted, now clearly angered.

"For your information, Ron, I was not making an excuse. I was merely stating what I saw!"

"So you're saying you saw Crabbe manage a brilliant feat of some hand and eye coordination, and Colin here deliberately missing the bludger so Harry could yet again get knocked senseless and spend some quality time with Madame Pomfrey!"

"That's not what I meant!" she shouted, now close to tears.

"What is going on here?" A voice sounded shrilly.

The students by the bed jumped as Madame Pomfrey approached with hands on her hips. "This is an infirmary. Not a playground. Now off with you. I won't have anyone else shouting about utter nonsense when I have patients that need rest. All of you, out," she said firmly with a finger pointing to the door.

The Gryffindors filled out into the corridor and once outside, Colin looked nervously from Hermione to Ron. One was staring daggers at his best friend while the other only graced him with a turn of her head and arms crossed over her chest.

"What, was that all about?" Ginny spoke up, coming between the two of them.

"Ask her. She seems to know where her loyalty lies," Ron muttered.

Eyes widened in disbelief, Hermione turned to retort but was interrupted by Ginny's glare. "Look, I don't care who's fault it is. We still won and Harry is going to be fine. So Ron, I don't want you pointing any fingers at anyone. And Hermione, I don't know why you're getting so riled up over this as you've clearly made your feelings known about Harry."

Colin turned to see Hermione's reaction to this and was surprised to see her lip slightly tremble, but within a moment she composed herself, raised her chin and with a whispered, "Congratulations", she turned on her heel and walked away. Ginny sighed as she watched her friend's retreating back. She turned to her brother.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to go after her?"

"Why should I?" Ron said half heartedly and Ginny's eyes flared.

"Don't you give me that, Ron. We both know that she still cares for Harry, no matter how hard she tries to hide it. Now you better go after her and apologize for shouting or I swear I'll hex you."

Ron brushed past Colin as he made his way down the hall. Colin looked at his feet and pushed his sleeves up once more.

"I still am sorry," he said quietly.

"Oh, Colin don't be. Harry's probably used to this by now anyway."

"Used to what?"

"Getting hurt at almost every quidditch game he plays."

* * *

If she closed her eyes she could hear the sickening crack of the bludger making contact with Harry's skull. This was why Hermione was adamantly scanning the book before her in hopes to get her mind of her best friends. She's had many arguments with Ron but few were about Harry, and none had ever gotten her so angry. She could almost hear the Dark Lord's mocking laugh in her head. He didn't even have to do a thing. All Harry had to do was play as much quidditch as he could and all Voldemort would have to do is just sit back and watch. Hermione found herself once again thanking whatever god that was out there for creating Madame Pomfrey, and cursing whatever wizard who created the accursed game called Quidditch. "It's not even that exciting anyway," she muttered to herself, half expecting a quip from the Dark Lord. When none came she was torn between feeling relieved or worried.

"Hello, Hermione." A voice sounded and Hermione jumped. She turned to find Luna making her way to the table she was seated at.

"Hello, Luna."

Luna set her books down and took out her parchment while Hermione looked around to see if there were any other empty tables. Unfortunately for her there weren't and fortunately for Luna, she seemed oblivious to Hermione's sniff of disproval at the sight of the Quibbler sitting on top of the books.

"That was a rather exciting game don't you think?" Luna said with a smile as she searched for the quill that perched neatly in her ear.

"Harry got hurt."

"Yes, he did," Luna answered with a vacant smile while triumphantly plucking her quill from its spot and getting to work. "This must make you happy of course."

Hermione blinked.

"Why on earth should I be happy that Harry's in the hospital wing?" she asked, thinking that the girl was definitely unhinged.

"Because now you can talk to him and tell him that you love him," Luna said rather bluntly.

"What?" Hermione spluttered. She did admit to that she did have feelings for Harry, but Love?

"Harry does not have anywhere else to go and the guilt for staying away from him will get to you. You will have to tell him," Luna said as if this was the most natural conversation in the world.

Hermione wasn't sure if she should stand up and storm off or sit there with her mouth hung open in disbelief that such a person existed. She was at a loss for words. Luna patted Hermione on the arm with a smile.

"Hello, Ronald."

Luna's eyes were focused over Hermione's shoulder and she stiffened at the name.

"Er, hi Luna. Hermione, can I talk to you?"

Hermione looked up at Ron, the argument washed over her. "Yes, of course Ron."

Ron turned to Luna who was looking up expectantly at him. His eyes darted around wondering if she was going to leave or not. When Luna didn't make a move Ron just gave her a weak smile and took a seat beside her. Luna went to work.

"Listen, about earlier-"

"It's alright, Ron. I'm sorry for yelling at you."

"Yeah, me too." They smiled at each other and he leaned across the table to have a look at her book. "So what are you working on?"

Luna looked up from her work, suddenly interested.

"Oh, um," she stuttered as she gathered her notes together. "It's just light reading."

"Do you usually take notes while you do that?" Ron asked trying to sneak peeks at the parchment, but Hermione kept it hidden from view and Luna went back to her research.

"Of course," Hermione said smiling weakly at him.

Ron gave her a suspicious look and Luna started humming a familiar tune as she turned the page.

* * *

He was encased in white. Harry swallowed and fumbled for his glasses. He blinked as his vision came suddenly into focus. He was in the infirmary, and he felt like he had run into a brick wall head first.

"Great to see you're awake, mate." Ron's face suddenly filled his vision.

"What happened?" Harry rasped and cleared his throat.

"Bludger bashed your head in. Still got the snitch though so it's alright."

"So we won?"

"Spectacularly."

Harry tried to sit up but the room started spinning so he shut his eyes for a few moments waiting for everything to get back to normal.

"Where's Hermione?"

The grin on Ron's face vanished. "Oh, erm, she's in the library catching up on work and all."

"Oh."

Harry was half hoping that any minute she'd come bursting through the doors dizzy with worry and begging for his forgiveness. The doors remained shut though and Ron and only Ron still stood by his bed. Harry's heart sank. _She didn't come to see me? _Harry's head sank deeper into the pillows and he wished for the darkness to encase him once more.

"She was here this morning though. You were still out."

Harry's ears perked up at this and he asked, "Did she say anything?"

Ron looked at his feet. "Erm, no, mate. No she didn't. But she came and that says something right?"

"Yeah."

Harry grew quiet once more and in an effort to have him smiling again Ron said, "Listen, I know for a fact that you have a chance. She was really worried about you, mate."

"Really?"

"Yeah, tears and everything. Yelled too."

"Yelled?" Harry said with confusion etched across his face.

"Well we had this gigantic row- no no, just listen- we had this gigantic row about Crabbe, you and Colin."

"What? Colin?"

"Oh it was fantastic. I never saw her so angry in ages. The plan worked perfectly, mate."

"Plan? Wait, what plan?"

"The one I came up with of course," Ron said as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"You came up with a plan to have a huge row with Hermione over me, Crabbe and Colin?"

"Actually the original idea was just to get her angry over you. Your deciding to throw yourself off your broom with your eyes closed was a bonus."

"Always happy to help." Harry winced as he pushed himself to a seating position and Ron helped to raise his pillow for him. "So how long have you been planning this?"

"Oh, I dunno. A day, maybe two? Had some help from Seamus and Dean of course. You want some water?"

"Hang on. Do you mean to tell me," Harry said slowly. "that you've been talking to Seamus and Dean, behind my back, about my love life?"

"Actually it wasn't really behind your back. We mostly talked while you were sleeping. Was loads easier that way."

"What?" Harry asked incredulously, but Ron waved him off.

"But that doesn't matter, Harry. What does is that we now know she still fancies you, and for some strange reason she's either experiencing a really bad case of denial or this is her way of expressing her undying love."

There was a pause between them until, "I'm sorry. I'm still on the part where you'd secretly plot your campaign for love with Seamus and Dean, _while I was sleeping._"

"Your curtains were closed. You were asleep. End of discussion."

"How does that even-"

"Harry. We're talking about you're love life here, mate. Please focus."

* * *

Two days without a voice in her head. She was beginning to wonder if he had finally gave up on her. _Hmm, not likely. _She thought to herself, but a piece of her smiled smugly knowing that the thought was hers and hers alone. She shifted the weight of books in her arms and almost paused in her tracks. This was foolish, he wouldn't be awake yet. She knew Ron had gone to see him earlier, but she didn't have the chance to ask him if Harry has awoken. Still, one day was one day too many to miss class, and as she had been reminding herself and everyone within speaking distance, N.E.W.T.S. were fast approaching.

So here she was on her way to the hospital wing, carrying homework for a wizard who not only might not even be conscious but who'll also be very well angry with her. _And he has every right too as I've been absolutely horrible to him. _She sighed as she once again shifted tomes of books in her arms then yawned. With the absence of Voldemort she had been searching even harder, wondering when he would decide to make his presence known and mock her for her fruitless efforts. Still there was no hurt in trying. Add the load of proper school work, and her problems with Harry and she was one emotionally and mentally exhausted witch.

Not that she tried lifting any of the weight off her shoulders. She had gone looking for help from the one person she knew could offer the most: Dumbledore. But that affair didn't even go as well as she planned. For one thing she never even got to speak to him. The moment she had gotten the chance to talk to the Headmaster, she had panicked and a feeling of hope had surged through her. She had ran to her Headmaster in the hallway and approached him breathlessly. He had looked down at her kindly with a hint of surprise in his eyes, and she opened her mouth to spill everything. Professor Dumbledore I'm so glad I found you. I don't think my mind is my own. Professor I know this may sound strange but I think that Voldemort has found a way of getting to Harry by controlling me.

"Hello, Professor, how are you?" Was what she had said instead, and something inside her paused and thought _Wait, that's wrong. _

"Good Afternoon Miss Granger. I hope everything is well?" Dumbledore had greeted.

She wanted to shake her head in answer but found herself smiling and nodding instead. _What's wrong? Why can't I… _Professor, something is horribly wrong. I can hear Voldemort in my head, and I've been having strange dreams with him in it. Professor, you have to help me.

"Everything is fine Professor, but I just need to ask you one question."

"Of course, Miss Granger. What is it that you'd like to ask?"

Voldemort is inside my head!

"Why did you allow Harry to play quidditch again?" Was what Hermione had found herself saying. She felt like screaming but her features remained a mask over her true desires.

Dumbledore then went on to describe that he knew she wasn't a fan but Harry clearly loved the sport and with the lack of a new seeker, he felt that Harry would have been glad to take up his old post once more.

"I know that you worry often about him, but there is no need. Hogwarts will always keep an eye on all of its students. Mr. Potter will be safe."

Against her will she thanked him and he left her. Voldemort's last parting words before he took his leave for the past two days still sent shivers through her. She remembered feeling confused and overwhelming sense of fear as the cold voice filled the crevices of her mind once more, _"You did not think that I would make it that easy for you, did you child?" _

"How did you… he didn't even notice.."

"_Yes, that is one accomplishment that I do so relish. The old fool's ignorance. You would be wise to take my advice my dear. Don't. Do that. Again. The consequences will be far worse I assure you." _

Then he was gone.

Now it's been two days and she hasn't heard from him since. She was free for the moment. She never felt more alone. As she approached the doors, she shook he head to clear her thoughts and paused. Did she really want to do this? What if he was awake? What if he awoke while she was there? At that moment, Luna's words crept up on her and she pushed them away with a snort. Love indeed. It was nothing but a silly crush. She was protecting him. If faced with the same circumstance he would do the same as would Ron. Luna was just being silly.

Then caught unawares, a certain image from a certain dream decided to surface and her cheeks grew pink as her lips quirked into a smile. She caught herself suddenly and shook her head violently, pressing the books in her arms closer to her chest.

"Oh, honestly. This is absolutely ridiculous," she said to herself with a huff and pushed the doors open.

A new silence filled her which was much different from the one in the empty corridor she had left. She quickly grew respectfully quiet. Hermione had always felt upon stepping into doctor's offices or hospitals that she was in some sort of sacred place and uttering a sound would awaken a certain patient in need of much rest. She didn't know where this feeling grew from, as her parents were both dentists and their offices definitely did not need absolute silence in fear a sensitive patient would violently awaken and die. But the feeling was there just the same.

Without warning, and much like a mother hen sensing her chicks could be in danger, Madame Pomfrey suddenly materialized before her. She eyed the books in Hermione's hands.

"Hello Madame Pomfrey. May I see Harry? I just want to give him his work. He's missed a lot already."

"He's in no condition to work, Miss Granger," she said sternly.

"Oh," Hermione said in a quiet voice, but she wouldn't leave without at least seeing him. "Can I just leave them by his bedside then, Madame Pomfrey. I'll only be a minute. I just want to see him."

Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips as if contemplating the situation. Then with a nod she gestured Hermione forward saying, "Five minutes Miss Granger and nothing more."

"Thank you."

Hermione pulled aside the curtain hiding Harry from view and smiled to see him still in bed. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully. She sighed and stepped forward. His dark hair was tousled and served as a great contrast against the pristine sheets that seemed to swallow him.

"Hello," Hermione said softly. "How are you feeling? Oh what a foolish question."

She paused and looked at him, wondering when he would wake up. His chest slowly rose and fell underneath the covers. A glass of water sat on the table by his bed which was crowded with all sorts of gifts ranging from get well chocolate, to get well beans, to get well pictures of him being hit by the bludger again and again. Courtesy of Denis Creevy. Hermione added her get well homework to the table.

"I brought you your work, but since you're clearly incapacitated at the moment, I'll just leave it right here."

With nothing to keep her hands occupied Hermione brought them behind her back. She looked down at him, wishing to see the familiar green gaze. She wondered if there would ever be a time when Harry could participate in any extracurricular activities without being injured or blacking out.

Without a thought, Hermione brought a hand out to smooth his hair across his forehead.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again, Harry."

Harry didn't answer her, then again how could he? He was still unconscious. Hermione seemed to struggle with herself as she fussed with the bed sheets. Her gaze fully focused on the person lying before her, she whispered, "I'm sorry." Her own voice rang in her ears and she hoped that he was truly gone so she could at least have one last time truly alone with Harry.

"I'm sorry," she said once more, hoping that he could hear her. Then at least something inside her could be at peace. Something inside her could rest if it only knew that Harry understood the reason for her actions.

"It has to happen. I don't want it to, but we can't control those things can we?" She looked at her hands. "No matter what I say, and no matter what I do, no matter how much things change between us I want you to remember how it was in the past. And don't let go." She felt the tears threatening to fall and she took a step back.

"W-well, I… I guess I'll see you tomorrow then. Stay safe, Harry. Goodnight." With that, she left the room as quick as she could. "Thank you and goodnight, Madame Pomfrey," her voice sounded and Madame Pomfrey echoed her farewell.

The sound of Hermione's footsteps faded away, the door swung shut behind her, and it was at that moment that Harry opened his eyes.

He smiled.

"Night, Hermione."


	7. Easy, Lucky, Free

DISCLAIMER: If any of this belonged to me, I'd be a happy, happy woman.

A/N: Well, hello there. Long time no see. I'm in the middle of school now, but I haven't given up on this fic yet (as you can see). So thanks a bunch to all of you who've stuck by me from the beginning, and a great big hello to newcomers out there. waves. Hopefully, I've managed to pull off some feeling of romance in this chapter. Let me know how I'm doing. Enjoy.

* * *

It was Wednesday. Wednesdays meant Herbology. Dean hated Herbology.

"Alright, now once you get them out of their pods, give them a good shake, fill their mouths with water and then pin them to your branches."

Dean eyed the grey pod oozing a bluish sticky liquid onto the table.

"Wonder what the house elves made for lunch today," Ron muttered from across the table.

Dean glanced up at him. "As long as it doesn't look or smell as awful as this does, I'll be happy."

"Make sure the handkerchiefs are secured tightly over your face," Professor Sprout called out, eyeing the class.

Dean straightened the red cloth and held it tightly to his nose. His knuckles whitened as he clutched the knife in his hand.

"Ready? And, now!"

Dean raised the knife and drove it straight through the pod. A high pitched wail emitted from the slight opening, and he winced. His eyes darted around for a fleeting moment, noticing that some of his fellow Gryffindors had turned their heads away. Ron grimaced and Harry's eyes squeezed shut. The deafening noise drowned out a cursing Seamus, while a trembling Parvati brought one hand up to her ear. Grasping the knife, Dean twisted and pulled, slicing the pod open and the scream died instantly. Several students were doing the same until the greenhouse was no longer filled with a chorus of high pitched screams. Replacing the aggravating noise was now a smell so horrid, Dean wondered if he would ever manage to get it out of robes.

His eyes watered, and his vision blurred, but instead of pausing to dash the tears away, he grabbed the pea, which was the size of a basketball, and shook it violently until a gaping hole appeared where its mouth should be. Dean gagged. The smell was overwhelming. His arm shot out to his right, groping for the bowl that he knew was sitting on the table and he then poured the water into the gaping maw. Slamming it shut, his fingers fumbled as he tried to pin it to the branch behind him. He muttered a curse as the branch continued to sway at his meager attempts, until Harry and Seamus helped to hold the heavy branch still. Having done that, Dean breathed a sigh of relief and nodded his thanks to the two. Careful not to swipe his brow with his glove, Dean shook his head in a vain attempt to rid himself of the thick smell that stung his nostrils. He looked around the room at the remaining students struggling with their pods, and ambled over to Harry and Ron who were helping Hermione hoist her pea up into the branches.

Professor Sprout looked around at her class once the task was done. Many of them had their eyes shut. Some were swaying, threatening to collapse while others sagged against the table. She clapped her hands together and the students raised their eyes wearily.

"Wonderful," she said. "You can all step outside for five minutes to get a breath of air, and then I want you to get into partners for the bigger pods."

Dean's jaw clenched. His eyes watered and his nostrils stung. The sticky blue sap had gotten in his hair and his robes were filled with the awful stench of those damned pods.

He _hated_ Herbology.

Muttered cleaning spells escaped grim and disgusted mouths as the students trooped out of the warm greenhouse, acrid with the sickening stench, and into the bitter cold. Dean didn't know which one he preferred more. On instinct, he raised his arm to his nose and inhaled deeply. Then with a shudder of revulsion he pulled off his dragon hide gloves and tossed them vehemently onto the snow filled ground. The students stood in a tight circle, in an attempt to spread body warmth. Their breaths came out in billowing smoke, many of them silent. Those who were talking kept their voices to murmur.

"This is ridiculous. I'm never going to get this stink off my robes. Even my bleeding jumper reeks of this stuff," Dean complained.

"When your hair is as thick as mine, then start complaining," Hermione said with clenched teeth.

"Just think, after this batch we won't have to deal with these horrid plants until next week," Hannah Abbot stuttered while rubbing her gloved hands together.

"At least the smell will be gone by then."

"Well, if any of you find yourselves hurt one day, I'm sure you'd find a new love for the filka pod."

"Yeah, Neville. When Seamus decides to stab me with a quill I'll be sure to shout for you to get me a filka pod."

Laughter echoed from the group, causing Neville's face to turn an interesting shade of pink. Hermione shifted her feet.

"You never know, Dean. In these times, anything could happen."

"Sure, Neville. I'll bet that there's a load of Death Eaters hiding in Hagrid's pumpkin patch. Maybe there's some hanging from the trees, maybe hiding under your bed?"

Strained laughter escaped the lips from a few students, while others busied themselves by rubbing their hands together.

'It could happen, Dean," Harry said quietly.

"Don't be thick, Harry. This is Hogwarts. Nothing can happen here. No one can get in. Besides we got Dumbledore here, don't we?"

"He'll find another way around it. We can't be safe forever."

The group was silent now. Ron blew into his hands as he eyed Harry. Neville stared off into the forbidden forest. Hermione's eyes were still trained to her feet. Someone coughed.

"Dumbledore would find a way," Seamus said through chattering teeth.

"What if Dumbledore didn't know? Voldemort could be watching us right now, and what if Dumbledore didn't know?" Harry said quietly.

Hermione looked at him sharply. Neville looked around nervously and Parvati's grip on her wand tightened instinctively.

"Bollocks, if anything happens, Dumbledore's our man," Dean answered.

"Leave it, Harry. Come on, looks like Sprout's calling us back in again," Ron interrupted when he noticed Harry open his mouth to answer.

"Wonderful," he said instead.

The students trooped back in, somewhat dejectedly and took their seats. Dean partnered up with Neville.

"Where's your gloves?" Neville asked while carrying their pod to the table.

Dean blinked and looked at the table and searched through the pockets of his robes.

"Oh, hell, I must have left it outside. Be back in a bit."

"Hurry, will you? I can't cut this thing myself."

Dean nodded and headed for the door.

A blast of wind hit him square in the face and he grumbled as he made his way to the back of the greenhouse. He trained his eyes to the ground, searching.

"-can't just go on saying things like that," a muffled voice sounded and Dean's ears perked up at the sound.

_Where are those damned gloves?_

"It's the truth and he knows it."

"Regardless, Harry. Saying things like that will only get you into trouble."

Dean's head jerked up. Now this sounded interesting. Ignoring the voice in his head that sounded much like his mother's, Dean froze and strained to catch more of the conversation.

"Well what do you want me to do, Hermione? Stay silent and let them go on acting as if this is all a game?" Harry asked in a heated voice.

_So he's talking to Hermione. _

Things just got more interesting.

Dean inched closer to the wall, trying to banish his feelings of foolishness. He peered around the corner to see an agitated Harry towering over a nervous looking Hermione. Dean was surprised to see that she was even attempting to have a conversation with him. Hermione was standing a good distance away from Harry with her arms folded over her chest. If it was a gesture to keep herself warm or to appear defiant, Dean wasn't sure. What contrasted with her no-nonsense posture and tone of voice was the fact that she wouldn't look at Harry, for her eyes remained trained to the ground or focused off in the distance. Dean watched her shoulders sag as she sighed.

"All I'm asking, Harry, is for you to be a bit more tactful."

Harry never took his eyes off her, and Dean wondered how Hermione managed to stay under that gaze without flinching or shying away. There was a heart beat of silence in which he noticed the expression in Harry's eyes change; the anger faded away and they darkened. Dean chuckled softly at this. _The man definitely knows what he's doing._

"Why won't you look at me?" Harry asked in a quiet voice.

Hermione fidgeted with her gloves and shivered.

"The wind is in my eyes," she answered.

Dean wanted to scoff at this unbelievable excuse, but he stayed silent. Sure enough, as if in answer to her statement, a gust of wind picked up. It pushed her back a step and forced Dean to pull his scarf tighter around his face. Harry didn't make a move to protect himself from the bitter cold. Instead he continued to pierce her with his gaze. Her eyes darted up to meet his. She must have seen something in them, for she suddenly made a show of adjusting her scarf and jacket saying, "We should get back inside."

Without waiting for an answer, Hermione brushed past Harry and went in through the back. Dean was in the process of thanking whatever god was out there for making her choose the other door and not the one that involved passing him. He was wondering if he should wait for Harry to pass, or if he should just step forward, pretend he had just come outside, pick up his gloves and head back in.

"How am I doing?"

Dean froze then shook his head. There was no use in hiding any longer. He took a step forward, into Harry's line of sight; his hands still in his pockets, and grinned sheepishly at him.

"Erm, fine."

Harry nodded as if taking his words to heart. His head turned to the left and he stooped to pick up a pair of gloves.

"These yours?"

"Er, yeah. Thanks, Harry."

As they entered the greenhouse through the back door, Dean grabbed a hold of Harry's arm.

"Hey, Harry?"

But what was he going to say? Sorry for listening to your conversation? I was stupid for poking fun at what could kill us all? To keep what pride he had left he said, "I… I know it's not a game."

In answer, Harry nodded, his lips twitching into a smile.

"Did you find them?" Neville asked once Dean took his place by his side.

He put on his gloves. "Yeah." He glanced up at Harry and saw Hermione stiffen as he approached her. The pod lay between them.

"Alright everyone," Professor Sprout said, gaining Dean's attention. "Now this procedure is much like the last. Though the pods are much bigger and the smell is much stronger."

Dean hated Herbology.

* * *

**_It is believed that The Order was one of the most intelligent, and accomplished secret society that has ever existed…._**

"This seat taken?"

Hermione looked up from her text book and froze. She never should have said good morning to him.

_Yes._

"No," she managed to say and went back to her book.

"That for McGonagall's class?"

_Don't answer him. You don't have to answer him. _"Yes," she found herself uttering in a small voice. She hoped her answer was her own.

"I never got to thank you."

Hermione turned the page. "For what?" she asked.

"When I woke up I found my books by my bed, and I know books would be the last thing on Ron's mind. It helped me catch up, so thanks."

Hermione swallowed as she forced herself to look up and gaze at him steadily. Her hands trembled. "You're welcome."

He smiled at her and she immediately focused her gaze elsewhere. "We have another game next weekend," he said as he reached for the chicken. The book lay forgotten in her hands as she stared incredulously at him.

"You're playing?"

Harry finished his pumpkin juice in a few gulps before answering, "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

She only stared at him open mouthed then shook her head and turned back to her book.

"Of course you would. It was only a concussion after all," she muttered to herself.

Harry grinned at her comment.

"Why, Hermione, if I didn't know better I'd say that you're worried about me."

"Of course I am you git," she huffed. "Just be more careful this time, alright?"

His lips curved into a smile and his eyes softened.

"I'll be fine."

Hermione nodded and quickly brought her attention back to her book.

"Good."

…**_Among many feats of magic, the members are most known for their work in the transfiguration of physical properties. Their research and experimentation has lead to one of the most important discoveries known throughout the wizarding world as Somnium Gradior… _**

The hubbub of noise echoed around them once more as they fell silent. Harry put a forkful into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

"So does this mean we're on speaking terms again?" he asked.

Hermione blinked. There was no point in sticking her nose up at him now. He'd already seen right through her. Was it safe though? The silence in her head told her yes, but something in the back of her mind screamed at her to turn away from him. She looked up into green eyes that looked as if they were trying to bore a hole through her. _If you're going to push him away now is the best chance to do so. _

She prayed to god that she was making the right decision, though she knew that if she continued to ignore him any longer, she would fall apart. _We've been friends for far too long. I'll find another way. I won't let you have him. _She found herself smiling for the first time in a while.

"I guess it does," she said.

"You two speaking again? Excellent." Ron said, taking a seat in front of Hermione. "I'm starving."

"I can't believe you can still eat after that," Hermione said wrinkling her nose at the memory of those horrid pods.

"Don't remind me, but I'm gonna need this food if I want to stay up to finish McGonagall's essay."

"You haven't finished that yet?"

"She gave it to us two days ago."

"And you haven't started?" Hermione asked as if Ron had just committed the most horrible crime known to man.

Ron just stared at her.

"Again. She gave it to us just _two days_ ago." When Hermione only sniffed and sipped her pumpkin juice, Ron shrugged and began to pile food onto his plate. "Oh yeah, I forgot. You're completely insane. Don't tell me you've finished the blasted thing already."

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but Ron held his hand up.

"No, never mind. Don't answer that question. I never should have asked."

Hermione sniffed as she went back to her reading.

"Well, if you would have applied yourself properly-"

"Applied myself? Hermione. We got this essay the day before. It's due in two days. Transfiguration isn't the only class I've got. Mind you, would be nice if it was…"

But Hermione wasn't listening to Ron any longer, for she was suddenly immersed in the reading before her:

…**_the members of this secret society would perform this spell under the influence of helping one in need. For there was one rule applied to the act of Somnium Gradior, and this single rule stated that a member must only perform this act with good intentions. If used selfishly, total control would not be established, thus the partaker would often lose the connection with the applicant. However, the connection would not be completely broken. If the power is maintained and the source in full supply, then the partaker may continue to perform this act by staying true to the spell's name. Somnium Gradior. Dream Walking. Thus the art of transformation and control may still be used through the object and through the applicant's dreams… _**

_Oh my goodness. _

"Hermione? Are you okay? Hermione."

Hermione blinked and looked up from her book. She mustn't act. She mustn't think. For the love of god, she must not think. The thought took shape in her mind and just as suddenly as it had appeared, it dissolved into shadow. But what if he had seen? There was no way she could hide this from him. How could one hide one's thoughts from a person who can look inside her head? Unless, she was in fact free for the moment, but how would she manage to know when he was there? Was there any point in hiding it?

_Stop thinking! _

"Hermione?"

Her eyes focused on the two boys looking at her in confusion. She forced a sheepish grin on her face.

"Sorry. I just have a lot on my mind right now."

_If he is in there, he would have said something by now. Unless he's just watching. Does it matter if I know or not? _

"So are you coming?"

"What?" Hermione snapped back into reality.

"The common room. We have two hours before Transfiguration," Harry repeated.

Hermione shut her book and stuffed it into her bag. "Actually, I wanted to go to the library for a minute. I'll meet you two up there alright?"

"Yeah, okay."

Hermione stood.

"You're going now?"

"Yes," she said absentmindedly fingering her ring as she headed for the door.

* * *

"Still reading, huh?"

Hermione jumped at the voice, but visibly relaxed at the sight of Harry seating himself before her. He apologized and she shook her head in response.

"Sorry, I guess I lost track of time."

"What have you got there?" Harry looked at the stack of books on her left and examined the covers. "I thought you finished the essay."

"I did. I just wanted to read ahead, that's all."

"You've really got to relax, Hermione. Don't do work you don't have to. Remember third year?"

Hermione pursed her lips at the memory of her experience with the time turner.

"Yes, well, I know what I'm doing this time, Harry. Shouldn't you be with Ron in the common room?"

"He's beating Neville at wizard's chess right now."

"You couldn't take much more of the humiliation could you?" she teased.

"Just once. I'd like to win, just once."

They became silent once more as Hermione went back to her reading. Harry drummed his fingers on the table as he watched her.

"Anything I can help with?"

"Oh no, I'm fine," she answered not looking up.

The drumming got more erratic until, "Let's go for a walk."

This time he did get her attention. She looked at him, then out the window at the flurry of snow that blanketed the landscape. "In _that_?"

"Sure why not?"

"You're mad."

"We don't have to walk outside. The halls will do just fine. Come on, you need a break."

When she didn't answer, he stretched his arm out and shut her book, much to her protests. He then stood up and took her hand.

"Harry! What are you doing? I was reading that!"

"You're finished."

He then began to drag her out of the library.

"At least let me take the books out-"

"You can take them out tomorrow."

"Harry!"

Harry ignored her protests and Madam Pince's shushing noises and proceeded to drag her out.

Once they were in the corridor, Hermione wrenched her hand out of his grip and crossed her arms over her chest.

"What, in the world was that for?" she asked heatedly, but Harry just grinned.

"You need to stop working. Come on."

He took a hold of her hand and marched her away from the library, as if she was going to make a break for it, run back through the doors and devour the books with her eyes.

"I am perfectly capable of walking on my own," she protested.

"I know," Harry answered, his fingers laced through hers.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but a hint of a smile graced her features. "Where are we going?"

"Where do you think we're going?"

"Harry, I need to read."

"You always read."

"That's why it's called a hobby."

"You can read later."

"You don't understand. This might be my only chance to-" she stopped herself from going any further and Harry raised an eyebrow at her.

"You're only chance read ahead? Hermione. You need a break."

She wanted to pull her hand from his grip, turn on her heels with a huff and walk right back into the library. Instead she allowed him to pull her along by the hand, secretly enjoying this little affair.

At the portrait, Harry muttered the password ("filka pod") and marched into the room. Neville looked up from the board.

"You found her."

"Wasn't hard," Harry said glancing at the board then wincing as Ron's bishop took another one of Neville's pieces.

He directed Hermione to the chair and told her to sit. Hermione complied and Harry took a seat beside her.

"Is there anything else you would like me to do, Harry?" Hermione asked with mock sweetness.

Harry turned to look at her with heated eyes. "I could think of other things," he said in a low voice.

Hermione immediately felt her cheeks grow warm and she moved slightly away from him. Her eyes, focused on the board, failed to miss the smile that clung to Harry's lips.

"W-who's winning?" she asked in an attempt to forget the wizard at her side. She could feel his eyes on her.

"Ron," Neville said dismally and Hermione immediately felt horrible for unwittingly rubbing it in.

"Just keep your eyes open, Neville. You can use your queen to- oh. Never mind."

Hermione smiled sympathetically at him as they watched his queen get massacred by Ron's knight.

"Quit helping him, Hermione," Ron said, not taking his eyes off the board.

"Want to play Exploding Snap?" Harry asked.

Hermione turned to him, not meeting his eyes. "No, I'm not in the mood. I think I'll just sit here and watch-"

"Neville get horribly beaten? Come on, just one game. You haven't played in ages."

"Harry,"

"Your robes will flame free. I promise," Harry joked and Hermione sighed, exasperated, at the reference to the last time she had played Exploding Snap. Yes, her robes had somehow caught fire, and no, it was not funny, though whenever the subject was brought up Ron often thought otherwise resulting in her crossing her arms in irritation and agreeing to 'only one game'.

"If you're trying to bait me, it's not working."

"Fine. We could just sit here."

"That's alright with me."

And they did just that. Hermione stared at Ron and Neville. Harry stared at her. She knew he was, and she knew he was smiling. Hermione shifted in her seat, but didn't look in his direction. Her fingers itched to have something to do, so they began fiddling with a loose thread on her robes. This went on for some moments until she felt a soft weight settle on her hand. She looked down to see Harry's hand resting on hers. She froze.

"Relax," he whispered.

Hermione felt far from it. Why oh why were they sitting on the same damned couch as the night when they- Ron yawned loudly, and Hermione flinched from Harry's grasp. She looked up at him. What was he trying to do? He gazed steadily at her, but she couldn't read anything from it. It was as if he was trying to draw her into him, and suddenly she was back at that night after her parents died. She was back at that moment when everything had changed between them.

And he knew.

He knew that she too was reliving those moments, wondering, if she could dare muster the courage to ask him.

_Give me my sin again, _his eyes spoke to her.

For a fleeting moment, she wondered, what if? Then with a violent mental shake of the head, she tore her gaze away and stood.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked.

Flustered, Hermione's eyes darted around the room. Where was she going? All she knew was that she had needed to put as much distance between her and Harry, and so she had stood. Now, no longer on the same plane as he, she didn't know where she could go to fully escape the memory.

"I… I need to stretch my legs," she said, still not having the faintest idea as to where she was going to go.

"Right," Ron whispered, distractedly.

She turned and headed for the girl's dormitories, which was the only place at the moment which she didn't have to travel far to get to, and where Harry could not follow her. Thank the Hogwarts Founders' sense of propriety. So it wasn't until Hermione had walked up the stairs and shut the door behind her, that she could take a proper, yet shaky breath. With her back against the door, she leaned her head back and shut her eyes. He couldn't get to her in here.

"Hermione?"

Her eyes flew open to see a confused looking Lavendar staring at her peculiarly.

"Are you alright, dear?"

Hermione managed to place an awkward smile on her face before striding to the washroom and shutting the door behind her. Now, she was perfectly alone. Her chest rose and fell and she shut her eyes in an attempt to steadily her racing heart.

"This is ridiculous," she whispered to herself as she turned her head to look into the mirror.

"You looked flushed, dear," the mirror chided helpfully.

"Thanks."

She went up to the faucet and splashed water on her face. _You definitely need to take your mind out of the gutter. _The cold water washed over her, and managed to dash any trace of heated thoughts. She sighed as she dried herself. "It was one night, and you both agreed that nothing would come of it. Nothing." She looked back at her reflection and flashed a satisfied smile.

"It was nothing. Nothing at all."

"If you say so," the mirror answered her and she nodded in approval at the inanimate object's comment.

She took a deep breath and opened the door. Lavendar looked up from her notebook.

"Are you sure everything's alright? You look awfully flushed."

"Everything is fine," Hermione said with a smile. "What are you writing?"

* * *

There was a loud crack and the three boys jumped, laughing. One clutched his eyebrows in dismay.

"That was fantastic, Neville! One more game," a voice sounded.

Neville set up the cards. At that moment Harry looked up to see Hermione and Lavender making their way down the stairs.

"Oooh, who got singed?" Lavender asked.

Harry took his hand off his forehead with a sheepish smile.

"Nice look for him, don't you think?" Ron grinned.

Harry grimaced and threw a bean at him, which Ron gladly caught and popped in his mouth.

"Want to play?" Harry asked them, his eyes falling on Hermione.

Before Lavender could open her mouth in reply, Hermione said, "No thanks, we'll just watch."

"You're not still sore about that last game, are you?" he inquired with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Neville looked up from the cards, and Hermione could see him trying to douse the swiftly growing hilarity on his features. She scowled at Harry.

Lavender looked from Harry to Hermione and asked, "What happened last time?"

"Nothing," Hermione said, taking a seat on the floor in front of him. "Let's play one round before class starts."

She ignored the sly grin on his face, and by the time they walked into Professor McGonagall's class and took their seats, Hermione was smiling smugly; proud that she had managed to avoid his gaze. One look at his eyebrows and his frowning features made her smile grow wider.

"What?" he asked her, noticing her stare.

"I was only wondering," she whispered as McGonagall instructed them to open their books. "If you would like to play again after class."

Harry glared at her as she stifled yet another grin, but before he could answer, McGonagall gave the two of them a hard stare and he shut his mouth and took up his quill. He glanced at Hermione, whose hand had immediately shot in the air, and he smiled inwardly.

_This is going to be easier than I thought._


	8. No lies, just love

DISCLAIMER: Alright, as usual none of this belongs to me, save for the characters Petra, Collins and Weber. Oh, and as for Didi and Gogo, they're nick names from the play "waiting for godot". Good stuff, you should check it out. The title for this chapter is a song from Bright Eyes.

A/N: Right, well, I thought this was too long so I've divided it up into two chapters. Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed, I'm glad people are liking this so far. Let me know what you think.

* * *

She was dreaming again. That meant the potion she took didn't work. Again. Madame Pomfrey had to have something stronger than this, and she would make sure that first thing in the morning she would take a trip to the infirmary. But first, she had to wake up. Her surroundings shifted and changed, and she now found herself not in a dark hallway, but in the comfort of the common room. She sat in one of the arm chairs, a book in her hand, and she warmed her toes by the fire. "It's not real. He's just fooling you. None of this is real," she said aloud.

Glancing down at the book in her lap displayed truth to her thoughts, for the title and even the colour of the book seemed blurred. "He must not have thought that to be important." A pity. For a good book would have been the ultimate stress reliever at a time like this. Then again why would he even bother to hand her a form of relief when the utmost perfect form of comfort kneeled at her feet right at that moment?

"It's not real."

"Are you sure?" the deep voice sounded, and Hermione swallowed hard at the effect a copy of his voice had on her.

She jumped to her feet, and lifted her skirts, ready to bolt to her chambers and away from his prying eyes roaming her trembling form.

Wait.

Skirt?

Chambers?

She looked down at herself, and indeed found that instead of her normal practical uniform, she found a silk, almost gossamer gown on. "Oh, you are such a fool," she muttered to herself as she forced her racing thoughts to slow, and settled her mind on the danger and reality of the moment. Immediately her garments shifted and transformed back into sensible and more familiar clothing.

Hermione took a deep steady breath refusing to look up at the object of her utmost desire. She steeled herself from throwing caution to the wind and flinging herself onto the young man standing before her. No matter that he had just now stepped forward. No matter that his arms were now wrapping themselves around her waist. No matter that she could feel his eyes boring into her, delving with deep strokes. No matter that she could feel his fingers now caressing the hollow in her neck. Now slowly trace a path up the smooth column. Her breath caught as he pulled her closer to him, moulding her body to his.

"It's not him."

She turned her head to the side, and shut her eyes.

"Look at me," the young man who looked, sounded and felt like Harry whispered to her in an anguished voice. "Hermione."

"No."

"I love you, Hermione."

"Stop it."

"It's always been you."

She could feel herself giving in, though her mind seemed to scream at her to stop, to push him away, to wake up. She let out a breath and faced him. Green eyes filled her vision, and he leaned his forehead against hers.

"What do you want from me?" she pleaded in a quiet voice.

"Oh, Hermione," Harry's voice murmured. His lips twisted into a feral grin that looked foreign on his features. "You know exactly," he continued as his form shifted and melted away to be replaced with an all too familiar figure. Hermione went cold as she felt his hand wrap around her neck in a tight possessive grip. "What I want," the Dark Lord finished.

And her mouth opened to let out a scream.

Her eyes flew open and she gasped, her hand at her throat. Hermione laid there, her eyes staring at the dark curtains surrounding her bed. She could still feel his arms around her. His breath on her face. His lips murmuring in her ear. Her stomach churned and her chest rose and fell with deep shuddering gasps.

Suddenly with a strangled cry she bolted from her bed, threw open her curtains and raced to the washroom, shutting the door behind her. A muttered "Silencio" sounded and the muffled sounds of one sick didn't escape through the cracks of the locked door. Tears streamed down her face as she jumped into the shower and proceeded to scrub every trace of him off her. "Let me go. Please let me go," she sobbed as she scrubbed at her neck furiously.

A sudden pressure built within her until it became too unbearable to hold. With a sudden gasp, a torrent of anger and frustration exploded within her and she screamed.

Once.

Twice.

Gasping and covering her face with her hands, she leaned against the wall and let the water beat over her.

She couldn't go back to sleep. Well, actually she wasn't sure if ever wanted to go back to sleep so she crept through the room and fumbled in the darkness for her robe. After a few failed attempts, she sighed angrily and pulled out her wand. "Oh, this is ridiculous. Lumos." She put on her robe, and as an after thought, picked up a book. This time however, the title was clearly set in bold letters before her and she nodded to herself, satisfied.

Whilst in the hallway, she paused outside the door of Ginny's dorm. Hermione needed to talk to someone. She needed to tell someone and Ginny looked to be the best candidate at the moment, but what would she say? Voldemort was in her head driving her insane in hopes to get at Harry? No, she couldn't worry the poor girl over that. But what about her feelings for a certain raven haired boy? Hermione shook her head. If Ginny would ever ask, she would gladly tell because it wouldn't do to have these feelings fester up inside her without an outlet to vent upon. _In fact, never mind waiting for Ginny. I'll talk to her in the morning. I've had enough of this rubbish already. _That decided she made her way to the stairs.

Once she reached the first landing Hermione was surprised to hear that she wasn't the only one awake.

"I don't need Ginny's blessing," Ron sounded.

"Then what's stopping you?"

Hermione froze at the sound of Harry's voice. The images of her dream suddenly resurfaced for a moment before she took control and forced them down with an indignant lift of her head.

"Dunno. It's complicated, I guess."

"What's so hard about it? All you have to do is go up to her and say, 'Hey, Luna. Wanna come to Hogsmead for some butterbeers and a shag?'"

Hermione shook her head ruefully. She didn't even have to peer over the railing to know that Ron was bright red, ears and all. Laughter and muffled thumps were heard and she could picture Ron throwing whatever he could get his hands on at Harry.

"You think that's funny, eh? What about Hermione?"

Before she could embarrass herself or Harry, she allowed her presence to be known by stepping forward and voicing her thoughts.

"What about Hermione?"

The boys looked up and Ron grinned sheepishly.

"Nothing."

Hermione raised her eyebrow at him, and in turn he made a show of fussing with his robes.

"What are you doing up?" Harry asked.

She turned to him, and sat herself beside Ron.

"I should ask the same of you two."

Harry raised his potions essay and Ron muttered something about not being able to sleep.

"Dare I ask that your insomnia is due to a certain blonde witch?"

Ron shrugged, not looking her in the eye. "She's my sister's friend. Wouldn't Ginny feel, I dunno, weird and all?"

Hermione placed her hand on his arm. "I'm sure Ginny would be fine, Ron. She'd be happy for you both. Just ask Luna. There's no harm in trying."

"Tell you what, the trip to Hogsmead is tomorrow. Talk to her today at breakfast and since you're a thick headed prat, Hermione and I will meet you in the Three Broomsticks just in case you screw anything up," Harry offered.

"Yeah thanks, Harry." Ron said dryly before looking from one to the other and asking, "So what's this, a double date?"

"Only if she wants it to be," Harry said with a look at Hermione.

There was a heart beat of silence, and Ron coughed awkwardly. Hermione's cheeks grew pink as she hurriedly said, "Don't be daft. Of course not."

Harry only smiled at this and turned to her.

"So, what's your story?"

"What?"

"Yeah, Hermione. I mean it's good to know that Harry and I aren't the only ones crazy enough to be up and about at such an ungodly hour, but why aren't you asleep? I thought you went to bed ages ago."

"Oh, I -I just had a bad dream. It's nothing to worry about."

"You want to talk about it?" Harry asked.

She shook her head. "No. No really, it's alright. I think it just might be stress from school and all."

"Are you sure?" Ron looked worriedly at her.

"Positive."

She fidgeted under Harry's scrutinizing gaze, but relaxed when he nodded. Ron stood and stretched.

"Well, I'm starved. Can I borrow your cloak, mate?"

"You're going to the kitchens _now_?" Hermione asked.

"Of course. Where else will I grab a bite to eat?"

"But it's four thirty in the morning, Ron. The house-elves should be fast asleep."

"No they're not."

"And how would you know tha-… Ron Weasley! Do not tell me that you sneak into the kitchens every morning and wake the poor house-elves to feed your appetite."

"Course not," Hermione almost let out a sigh of relief until Ron continued, "not _every _morning."

"Ron!"

"I'm a big guy, Hermione. It takes a lot to keep me going."

"But at four thirty in the morning!"

"It's not like they're sleeping."

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but Harry interrupted her before she could go on, "They're really not. Really, Hermione. It's as if the little buggers run on batteries or something. Ron and I have been down there some nights and every time they're always awake."

Hermione opened her mouth and closed it, not quite sure what to say so instead she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Just, just don't get caught alright?"

Ron stood and grinned, "That's what Harry's cloak is for." He dashed up the stairs and came back down in a flash. Swishing the cloak around him, he waited expectantly.

"Well, are you two coming or not?"

"You cannot be serious."

"What? We haven't run 'round the castle under this thing in ages."

"Yes, there's a reason for that Ron. We were younger then and noticeably smaller," she answered, looking pointedly at him.

Harry stood.

"You're going?" she asked him.

"Come on, you can't expect him to carry everything himself." Harry said, holding out his hand to her.

She looked at it.

"Harry, I'm head girl."

"And Ron's a starving prefect. Now set a good example, Hermione and sneak into the kitchens to feed a hungry friend."

Hermione looked at Harry as if he was insane and said, "That is the most ludicrous logic I have ever heard."

In answer to Harry's statement Ron's stomach growled loudly.

"Are you coming or not?" Ron asked.

Hermione huffed and ignored Harry's hand.

"You're both impossible."

She grasped the cloak from Ron and draped it over the three of them.

"You're going to have to move in a bit, mate," Ron said to Harry, and he obliged somewhat grudgingly by pressing himself closer to him and wrapping his arm around both of his friends.

"I can see your legs, Ron."

"That's because you're underneath the cloak, stupid."

Harry elbowed Ron's side.

"No, crouch or your legs will be showing."

"You too Harry. Are we all set? Alright, let's go," Hermione said.

Somehow, in the state they were in: crouched, pressed against each other and in a tangle of arms, they managed to climb through the portrait hole.

"That was fairly easy," Hermione said.

"Easy? You're walking upright," Ron said indignantly.

"Yes, well, if you weren't so tall, Ron then you wouldn't have too much trouble would you?"

"Oh, I'll just stop growing then!"

They hobbled forward; Harry often brushing himself up against Ron and vice versa.

"This is uncomfortable," Harry remarked and Hermione, who was on Ron's left, bit back her laughter.

"Yeah, well. It's not a walk in the park for me either, mate."

"Would you two be quiet? Harry, give me some light. I can't see the map…okay it's clear."

They hobbled.

"Wait! Wait! Professor Flitwick is coming around the bend…alright let's go."

They hobbled some more.

"Now I know why we haven't done this in ages," Harry whispered.

"Hey, you said you were hungry too."

"Well the three of us didn't all have to go."

"Stop complaining, and crouch a bit more. Your legs are showing," Hermione whispered.

Harry cursed and they heard his knees crack.

"That didn't sound healthy," Ron said.

Harry stared daggers at the shadow that was his best friend and said two words that Ron wouldn't have minded repeating had Hermione not shushed them both.

"Alright, we're here. Let me tickle the pear," Hermione said.

Ron made a noise that sounded like a strangled laugh.

"Oh, honestly, Ron. Grow up!"

"Sorry."

She reached out towards the bowl of fruit. With the deed done and the three of them safely in the kitchens, the boys stood upright, tossing the cloak off them. Many house-elves blinked at their sudden appearance, but some acted as if three people suddenly materializing wasn't completely out of the ordinary.

There was a squeal of delight.

"Oh, right. Dobby," Harry muttered before a small, sock wearing and pointy projectile hurtled itself at him, knocking him over.

"Harry Potter, sir! Dobby has not seen you in such a long time, sir. Dobby is wondering when you would come, sir."

"You, er, look good Dobby."

Dobby flashed Harry a smile and looked proudly at his outfit. "Dobby has bought every single garment himself, sir. Even the hat, sir."

Ron stooped to pick up Dobby's hat, and the elf thanked him with a bow.

Two of house elves eyed the three of them warily as they hurriedly went on their work. One even squealed in fright when Hermione smiled encouragingly at them.

"What's wrong with some of the elves, Dobby?"

Dobby glanced behind him at the two especially weary looking house elves. "Oh Didi and Gogo means no harm, sir. 'Tis just a bad experience Didi and Gogo has with wizards in Hogwarts, Harry Potter."

Hermione's eyes turned from the two elves, and rested on Dobby. Her troubled look turned threatening. "Are any students bothering the house-elves, Dobby?"

There was a dangerous glint in her eye, and Ron worriedly wondered if S.P.E.W. would be making a rather nasty comeback this year.

"Oh, no, miss. Never, miss. It happened one month ago but Didi and Gogo never forgets, miss. Didi and Gogo still works hard, but Didi and Gogo never forgets. No house-elf ever forgets, miss."

An elf came up to them with a silver platter filled with biscuits and three cups of tea.

"Thanks. What won't they forget, Dobby?" Ron asked.

Dobby looked up at him with his very large, very green eyes.

" 'Tis Bad wizards that has come to Hogwarts, sir"

* * *

"I thought you said no one could apparate into Hogwarts?" Ron said thickly.

The three of them were now back in the common room, seated on the floor surrounded by food. Hermione picked up a cream cake and nibbled on it.

"It's true. What I don't understand is how they got in here without getting caught."

"You sure, Dobby's right? I mean he is a bit, well you know, not all there."

Hermione gave Ron a look. "Gogo and Didi looked awfully uncomfortable, Ron and I seriously doubt that Dobby would lie about anything like that."

Harry swallowed and grabbed another pastry. "You think this has anything to do with the missing students?" he asked them.

At this, Hermione's head snapped up.

"What missing students?"

"You haven't heard?"

"Would I be asking such a question if I have?"

"There's been some students disappearing over the past couple of months. I thought you knew this. It's been going all over the school."

Hermione shook her head, clearly dumbfounded at this piece of news.

"No, Professor McGonagall never told me anything about that. I mean, she did tell me to be more alert during my rounds, but I thought that the extra guard was needed because of Voldemort."

Ron cringed at the mention of the Dark Lord's name.

"I'm surprised you didn't even catch on or hear anything around the halls. It's not like you, Hermione," he said.

Hermione looked off into the dark corners of the room, a far away look in her eyes.

"My mind's been preoccupied lately," she said quietly.

"I'm going to the kitchens, maybe I can talk to Didi or Gogo tomorrow," Harry said.

"If you can even get close enough without them screaming their heads off and cursing you to oblivion. Besides, Dobby said that they didn't even see much. Didi was stunned before he could get a good look, and Gogo only saw shadows," said Ron in between bites.

"Who was taken?" Hermione asked.

"They're all girls. I don't really know much of them. Er, I think Emma Dobbs and Orla Quirke were the oldest."

"There's a Gryffindor missing and I didn't know?" Hermione said, aghast.

"Actually there's two. Petra was first."

"Petra Manalo?"

"You know her?"

"I…I helped her find her class in the beginning of the year."

Harry and Ron didn't know what to say. The room was cast in a spell of silence. Hermione looked at the food and her stomach churned, now having lost her appetite. Her mind raced.

"When was Petra taken?" she asked suddenly.

"A bit after Christmas break."

Her heart stopped.

"Hermione? Hey, are you okay? Ron get her some water! Hermione. Hermione!"

Hermione blinked. "I'm…I'm fine. Harry, no, stop, I'm alright. I'm just- I'm just surprised…" she lied.

_Oh my goodness._

"Are you sure? You looked like you were going to faint a minutes ago," Harry asked, his eyes tinged with worry. Ron hovered over her. Hermione nodded and pushed the water Ron held out to her. Her face set, she looked at the two of them.

"We need to find out how they got in the castle."

"We'll do that in the morning. We'll talk to Didi and Gogo, and I reckon Dobby might know a bit more. We can check in the library too. There's gotta be a spell or something, but," Ron said, yawning. "right now, I'm going to sleep. You coming, Harry?"

Harry looked at Hermione who was staring off in the distance.

"Yeah, er, I'll be up in a minute."

Hermione sat on the couch.

"Aren't you going up?" she asked him when they were alone.

"Aren't you?" he said.

"I'm not tired yet."

"Well neither am I."

Hermione lay on the couch, her head resting on her arm. Harry stared up at her. Her eyes glowed in the firelight, and her hair cast shadows over her face.

"Harry?"

Harry blinked.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think they're alright?"

Harry swallowed.

No, he didn't.

"I dunno, Hermione."

She looked at him searchingly.

"It's not your fault."

Harry laughed bitterly, but didn't answer. She knew him all too well. She swallowed a yawn.

"Go upstairs, Hermione."

"Not without you. I will not leave you here alone to wallow in self pity."

"I'm not going to wallow in self pity," Harry said, amused, but Hermione only gave him a look that said: 'I know you.'

"You look tired," he said gently.

"Well I'm not," she answered and soon after betrayed her words by yawning.

Harry sighed and stood up. He went over to the couch, took her in his arms and laid her head in his lap.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting you to sleep."

"I'm not a child, Harry."

"Well you're acting like one. Now close your eyes."

She obliged and soon felt his fingers stroking her forehead soothingly.

"Please don't tell me that you're going to start singing."

"Do you want me to sing?"

At this she opened her eyes and looked up at him. A ghost of a smile clung to her lips.

"You know, I don't think that I've ever heard you sing before."

"Will you sleep if I do?" he asked.

"Will you stop blaming yourself if I do?"

"Fair enough."

Hermione settled herself against him. A comfortable silence filled the room.

She closed her eyes.

When Harry started humming her face cracked into a smile.

"Hermione," he said exasperatedly.

"I'm trying!"

They were silent. Harry continued to absentmindedly stroke her forehead. He started humming again and she stifled a laugh.

"Do you have a problem with my humming?"

"No, no. I'm sorry. Do continue."

Harry chuckled but did as he was told. She didn't know if it was his voice, his soothing motions or if it was just because she was just plain tired, but Hermione soon found herself falling asleep.

"Harry?" she whispered sleepily.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing's going to change between us, right?"

"Not unless you want it to."

She hesitated before continuing,

"And you… you don't regret it, do you?"

Harry paused and looked down at her, knowing exactly what _it _was.

"No."

"Hmm," she yawned. "Neither do I."


	9. La vie en rose

Disclaimer: The first song "Between the Bars" is sung by Elliott Smith. The second is "La vie en rose" the version sung by Edith Piaf. There's the English version of the song at the end as well, which also doesn't belong to me and has been sung by various singers. Also, the line "music leads to..." is taken from a much music commercial I saw a while back. So I can't take any credit for that one.

A/N: Okay, here's the next instalment. There's a fair bit of music in it as well, actually I hope I didn't over do the whole music thing. I find that every time I read a story I picture it as if it's a movie playing in my head, and like all movies it must have a soundtrack. So here's mine. I think that one can get into the story a bit more if it's accompanied by music, and if any of you can, maybe you can get a hold of these two songs (_Between the Bars-_Elliott Smith & _Le vie en rose-_Edith Piaf) Plus it would be more affective hearing it as well as reading the lyrics. Now hopefully I'm not rushing things as you'll see in the end. Just let me know how I'm doing, oh and thanks to all who has read and reviewed.

* * *

She awoke from a dreamless sleep. Knowing that she had gotten only about four hours of sleep at most, and feeling as if she only had two, Hermione opened her eyes groggily and rubbed every trace of sleep away. Sitting up she swallowed a yawn and stretched. Hermione blinked as she looked around blearily. Where was she? All she could remember was a jumble of sounds and pictures: stumbling around the corridors, tickling a pear and soft yet soothing singing.

"About time you woke up," a voice sounded from the portrait hole.

Hermione swivelled her head to see Ginny walking towards her with a grin on her face. In one hand she held a plate containing a muffin, some eggs and a few sausages and the other held a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Here. I wasn't sure if you were awake yet, but you still got loads of time."

"Oh my goodness, what time is it?"

"Half past."

"Seven?"

"Eight."

"What!"

Hermione jumped to her feet and made to run to the girl's dormitories, but Ginny caught her by the arm.

"Relax, you have half an hour until class starts."

"But I still have to shower, and change, and review my notes, and I wanted to go to the library and-"

"There's plenty of time."

She sat Hermione down and handed her the plate.

Now completely awake, the events from earlier came flooding into her memory. She shovelled the food in her mouth at break neck speed and chewed hurriedly while craning her neck to look around the room.

"Where's Harry?" she said, half expecting him to come through the portrait hole or pop up from under the table. "He should have woken me up."

"Harry's with Ron in the Great Hall talking with Luna," Ginny said, but her tone of voice made Hermione pause. She eyed Ginny and took another forkful of food.

"Nothing happened."

"Oh, of course not. I only found the two of you sprawled on the sofa together, obviously exhausted, though from what, is clearly none of my business," Ginny stated and Hermione noted a rather wicked look in her eye. She sighed as she managed to scarf down her muffin. Ginny seemed unfazed by the fact that at that moment Hermione looked as if she was trying to swallow the baked good whole.

"We fell asleep on the couch. Nothing happened," she said and suddenly dissolved into a fit of coughing. Ginny calmly handed her the glass and Hermione took it gratefully, gulping it down in seconds. Shooting to her feet, she hesitated, debating whether or not she should take the dishes with her. Having made her decision, she rushed to the staircase and raced up the stairs with Ginny at her heels.

"Come on, Hermione. You know you can tell me anything right?"

"And I'm telling you, Gin, nothing happened," she said as she rushed around the room grabbing her things, rand into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Ginny fussed with her hair as she looked in the mirror then walked up to the closed door and leaned on it.

"Don't tell me that you were alone with him all night and you didn't do anything," she called through the closed door.

Within minutes, Hermione burst from the washroom, hair dripping but now dressed in fresh clothes.

"We weren't alone all night. I went to bed earlier but woke up, and besides, Ron was with us."

With a flick of her wand, Hermione applied a drying charm to her hair and shrugged into her robes.

"Yeah, but Ron wasn't there when I came down this morning."

"Hand me my books, will you, Gin?"

"Don't you dare try to change the subject. Alright, if you want to be difficult then fine but I bet you can't look me in the eye and tell me that you never did anything with him before."

Shouldering her bag, and with her hand on the doorknob, Hermione visibly froze. A split second later she was out the door and rushing down the stairs.

"Hermione!" Ginny cried out in a mixture of scandalized triumph and surprise.

Hermione winced but never faltered in her step. She meant to rush to table to pick up her dishes but was surprised to find that they were no longer there.

_Wow, they're efficient. _

A feeling of annoyance grew within herat the sight of the table devoid of her dirty dishes. Ginny practically flew down the stairs and clutched Hermione's arm in a vise like grip.

"When?" she said, but Hermione paid no attention to her.

"Can you believe it? I was upstairs for no more than ten minutes and already they have cleared my mess away."

"Yes, it's wonderful isn't it?" Ginny said flippantly and continued, "Now tell me, when?"

"How can this be wonderful? They're being worked like slaves! It's as if they're told to wait in the shadows for us to toss our rubbish about and then quickly dispose of it because heaven forbid any of us to clean up our own mess. I cannot believe this!" Hermione said heatedly.

"Hermione, will you leave the house-elves for just a minute?" Ginny said exasperatedly.

Hermione climbed through the portrait hole and headed to her class, still partially annoyed. Already the students were roaming the corridors, heading to their first class.

"Oh, you cannot expect me to go to class now without telling me what happened."

"Ginny,"

"No, Hermione," she said stubbornly.

Hermione sighed and turned to face her friend. "Meet me in the common room after classes are over, alright? I'll tell you then."

Ginny looked as if she was going to object when Hermione stood straighter and adjusted her head girl badge.

"You're going to be late, Ginny."

Ginny looked sourly at the badge. "Alright fine. And you'll tell me everything?"

"I'll tell you what I can."

* * *

"You did what!"

Heads swiveled in the direction of the sudden outburst.

"Oy, what are you looking at? This is a private conversation," Ginny said, oddly sounding much like her older brother.

"Ginny," Hermione hissed, eyes darting around the room. She gave Seamus and Dean a weak smile and turned back to the red head sitting before her. "You said you wouldn't overreact."

"Yeah, that was before you told me that you snogged Harry sodding Potter. Blimey, Hermione, I didn't think this was going to be bigger than Dean asking Parvati out."

"He finally did it?"

"And she finally got the chance to let him off nicely."

Hermione cast a remorseful frown in Dean's direction.

"So that's why he's been acting strangely. Poor Dean."

"Poor Dean? Um, excuse me, but are we just going to ignore the fact that you positively snogged the brains out of Harry, and almost shagged him in this very room, on that very couch?"

Hermione's eyes flared as she cast another look around the common room, looking for stray ears. Everyone seemed to be occupied with their own business, and feeling somewhat satisfied, she focused her full attention on Ginny.

"First of all, nothing happened," Ginny's eyebrows raised at this comment, but Hermione ignored her. "and second, Harry stopped everything before we could do…it."

"It? You are practically a grown woman, Hermione," Ginny laughed then said in a matter of fact tone, "its called sex. You and Harry had sex."

Hermione's eyes widened and she cast furtive looks around the room, glaring especially at Dean and Seamus. Satisfied that they were completely preoccupied with their game she turned back to Ginny and said, "We didn't have…it. We just…kissed…among other things."

"Oh my god…" Ginny groaned, as she tried to stifle her mirth.

"It sounds horrible, doesn't it?"

"Are you kidding? This is the greatest news I have ever heard since… well, ever."

"You're joking."

"You have had your eye on him for years and it's about time that you two did something about it."

"What are you talking about? We're just friends."

"With benefits?"

Ginny laughed as Hermione gave her a horrified look and playfully swatted her.

"You are horrible, Ginny."

"No, I'm just fiendishly clever," Ginny grinned at Hermione, who went back to whatever it was she was writing. The red head smiled slyly and leaned forward. "So? How was it?"

"How was what?" Hermione asked with feign innocence. At the look Ginny gave her, she said, "You don't honestly expect me to tell any of that, do you?"

"Oh, come on. The entire female population has been dying to get their hands on the illustrious Mr. Potter ever since he turned legal. You've been one of the lucky few. Now please, do us all a little favour and give us some details."

Hermione laughed at the wicked smile that graced the youngest Weasley's features. Oh, if only Ron could hear them now.

"It was…nice."

"Nice? That's it?"

"I was just about ready to go at it right on the couch. What else am I supposed to say?"

"You dry humped, Harry Potter!" Ginny said aghast, eyes sparkling in barely contained mirth, and Hermione was torn between burying herself in her books in embarrassment or swatting the be-jesus out of the crude Weasley.

"Ginny, I swear, if you don't lower your voice, I'll-"

"Sorry. Jut a bit of a shock that's all. My god, Hermione. I didn't know you had it in you."

"Yes, well, nothing is going to come of it. It was a mistake and we won't let it happen again."

"Are you mad?"

_Absolutely. _

"Hermione, if he likes you, I say go ahead and take him."

"Haven't you been listening to a word I've said? He doesn't fancy me. It was a mistake, and anyway, I talked to him about it and he said that it's not a problem. I bet he has already pushed it away or forgotten about it by now."

"You talked to him? When?"

"Early this morning, before I fell asleep."

"In his arms?" Ginny teased and laughed as Hermione swatted her yet again.

"Yes, in his arms. Again, nothing happened."

"And what did he say?"

"He said he doesn't regret it."

"He doesn't regret it?" Ginny repeated and when Hermione confirmed it with a nod, she said, "And you're somehow translating that into an 'I don't have any interest?' "

"And how else am I supposed to interpret it?"

"Oh, I dunno, maybe: 'I'm incredibly interested, and slightly aroused?' "

Hermione shook her head in amazement and Ginny dissolved into a fit of laughter at the look on her face.

"I cannot believe you. He has no interest in me and I absolutely do not have any feelings for him."

_Oh, you are a horrible liar, and whatever happened to 'I'll tell her everything in the morning?' _

Hermione wanted to stamp out the little voice in her head, but she also reveled in the fact that the voice was indeed her own. Ginny only looked at her with raised eyebrows, but not a word escaped her mouth. Hermione knew that she could see right through her lie, but Ginny only grinned slyly and brought her attention back to her books.

"So I guess you're either blind or in denial."

"Please don't tell me you've been talking to Lavender," Hermione mumbled under her breath.

"Don't tell me that you haven't noticed."

"Noticed what?"

"The way he looks at you."

Hermione froze in the action of turning a page and looked up at Ginny.

"And trust me, love, he hasn't forgotten a thing."

* * *

"You haven't forgotten a thing, have you?" Ron asked.

"Course not."

"You think this will work?"

"It has to, and if not, she needs to relax anyway," Harry said.

"You sure you can find it, mate?"

"Positive."

"Right, well. Let's get on with it then, eh?"

"Filka pod," Harry muttered and followed Ron through the portrait hole.

Seamus and Dean paused in their game of Blind Man's Bluff, and Dean, who was exceptionally good at the game nudged Seamus and motioned to Ron and Harry.

"Hey Harry, Ron! Youse wanna play?" Seamus said.

"Maybe later, yeah?"

"Right."

The two of them walked up to the table Hermione and Ginny were sitting at. Harry greeted them with a grin. "Hey. Missed you this morning."

Hermione only smiled weakly in response, and Ginny had a strange look in her eye.

"I'm sure Hermione did as well," she said earning herself a glare from the blushing head girl.

Harry looked at the two of them in confusion but instead of asking he plopped himself in a seat beside Hermione. He glanced at the book she was reading.

"I thought we were done with Dream Walking."

"Yes, I know, but I'm rather interested in the topic so…"

Harry nodded, noting the nervous look in Hermione's eyes. He looked to Ginny for answers but she carefully avoided his gaze.

"Well you missed it at breakfast," he said.

"Missed what?"

Ginny failed at stifling a laugh as she said, "Ron being prince charming."

"She said yes, didn't she?" Ron said with a glare at his sister.

"Oh, that's wonderful, Ron." Hermione said with a bright smile.

Ron looked at the table and began fussing with the pages of Ginny's book. "Yeah. Yeah it is," he said with an unconscious smile gracing his features. He then looked up at Harry and Hermione and asked, "You two still set for the double date thing?"

Harry, glancing over his shoulder at the sound of a loud pop signalling Dean's success in the game, missed Ginny raising her eyebrows suggestively at Hermione. Now beet read, Hermione stared daggers at Ron.

"It's not a double date, Ron."

Having turned back to the conversation, Harry nodded and said, "Yeah, we're still in. Not for the whole thing, mind you. We'll give you two some time alone, but we'll have a couple Butterbeers together."

Hermione's book snapped shut and she stood.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked.

"The library. I want to get some work done before I go on my rounds."

"I'm coming too. I need to finish my essay for Flitwick," Ginny said and followed her out.

Once they were out of the room, Harry rounded on Ron.

"Double date? What's wrong with you? It's hard enough as it is to do this without scaring her away."

"Sorry, mate. Couldn't resist."

The two of them joined Dean and Seamus for six rounds of Blind man's Bluff, in which Dean (being exceptionally and frighteningly good with the loss of his sight) won three, Ron and Harry two and Seamus ("I'm better with me eyes open anyway.") with a grand total of one win.

* * *

Hermione yawned as she headed back to the portrait hole. She needed to get more reading done for Defence Against the Dark Arts. This trip around the school was quite an uneventful one save for the regular meetings with Peeves and a few run-ins with couples seeking privacy that the dark corridors and one broom closet provided. What shocked her most whenever she happened to find a couple engaged in certain illicit acts was not the fact that what her eyes witnessed was indecent and quite alarming, but instead her treacherous mind somehow managed to dredge up images of herself and Harry. For a split second these images would completely take over, replacing the couple before her eyes. Then she would mentally shake herself violently, allow a grunt or a word to escape her lips, and with a disapproving look she'd send the embarrassed couple scampering away. Three times this happened, and three times she cursed Harry Potter and the feelings he managed to invoke within her.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the portrait swung open before she could utter the password and out came the devil himself. That look in his eyes that caused her to tremble with an indescribable feeling followed the surprised look when he first noticed her standing before him.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Looking for you."

"Why? What's wrong?" Hermione said, suddenly concerned.

Harry shook his head and took her hand. "Nothing," he said as he led her away from the portrait.

Hermione look back at the fat lady as she was helplessly led on.

"Well if nothing's wrong I need to go back. I have to finish reading something for Professor Wellington's class."

"That's not due until next week."

"Yes, but I'll have loads to do next week. I may not have any time."

Harry didn't answer her and just continued to pull her along.

"Where are you taking me?"

"You'll see."

Hermione stopped in her tracks, forcing Harry to do so. He looked back at her.

"Where are we going, Harry?"

He looked at her with that same look that dream-Harry had graced her with. Her breath caught in her throat.

"It's a surprise," was all he said before he tugged at her hand and pulled her along with him once again.

"This better be worth it, Harry. It's after hours."

"You can say that you were on official Head-Girl business."

"Doing what exactly?"

_Me. _Harry thought to himself with a wicked grin. Instead he said aloud, "Now that I leave up to your imagination."

Hermione grit her teeth as she tried to push treacherous thoughts aside. She definitely did not want to leave anything up to her imagination at the moment, thank you very much. Harry was too busy looking at the map in his hand to notice Hermione's moment.

"Hang on, someone's coming. You have that excuse ready yet?" he said, dropping her hand and fishing in his pocket.

"Harry!" she hissed. "You can't expect me to just-"

"Relax."

He pulled out a light silvery material out of his pocket, and in moments, Hermione found herself once again underneath the invisibility cloak, pressed up against the wall. Only this time the arms that encircled her didn't belong to Ron. They held her a little too close, and long after the teacher passed, they lingered on her a moment too long.

It wasn't long before Hermione noticed that the portrait on her right seemed all too familiar.

"Harry, we've passed that portrait already."

"I know."

She looked up at him.

"We're walking in circles, Harry."

"I know," he said, with his eyes searching the walls for an elusive door.

"Harry, this is ridiculous. What exactly is it that we're looking fo- oh."

A door appeared.

"We're here," Harry said and they stepped through. He whisked the cloak off them and stuffed it back in his pocket. "What do you think?"

Hermione blinked.

"What is this place?"

"It's the room requirem-"

"I know that. What I meant to say was what did you need?"

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced around the room. Everything was exactly as it was when he and Ron had found it. "I thought you needed a place to relax. You know, get away from school and all. Guess, you're fine though because this a lot like the common room. With more books of course."

Hermione walked up to the couches.

"There's trays of food here," she said, looking at the coffee table.

Harry grinned. "Yeah, I, er, asked Dobby to send in something. Looks like he outdid himself."

Hermione ran to the mountains of books adorning the numerous shelves. Her eyes scanned the titles. With a wide smile she excitedly ran up the winding staircase to the rest of the shelves on the second floor. The moonlight poured through the bay windows illuminating her in a soft light. Harry stood with his hands in his pockets and watched her move from the window to look through the shelves. Everything she had ever wanted to read was right there in her reach from Muggle novels to "A Wizard's Guide to finding the perfect animagus, and other shape shifting tricks". A contagious smile lit her features and she moved to lean on the balcony to gaze down at Harry. Unshed tears shone in her eyes and they sparkled in the moonlight kissing her small form.

"This is wonderful, Harry."

"I knew you'd like it," he answered, not able to take his eyes off her. "Come down here, I want to show you something else."

She came down the stairs to meet him. Torches and candles lit the room. A roaring fire crackled in the hearth and he handed her a cup of tea before turning her attention to an object on the table by the wall. It looked oddly like a gramophone, but instead of a handle that served to wind it up, there was a hole that looked like her wand could easily fit into.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Watch," he said.

Hermione watched as he shut his eyes. He appeared to be concentrating on something and his lips moved, mouthing out words that she couldn't make out. He then opened his eyes and inserted his wand into the box saying, "Ludo." There was a crackling sound and Hermione looked at him curiously. He brought a finger to his lips. "Listen," he said and so she did. The muffled crackling continued, until soft notes playing the bars to the intro of an unfamiliar tune reached her ears and filled the confines of the room. When the artist started singing to the sweet melancholic tune, Hermione laughed softly and placed a hand on the object.

"This is a gramophone isn't it?"

"Yeah. You haven't seen one?" Harry asked and Hermione shook her head in response. Her ears picked up the words that surprisingly hit close to home.

_Drink up with me now,_

_And forget all about_

_The pressure of days._

_Do what I say,_

_And I'll make you okay,_

_And drive them away_

_The images stuck in your head…_

"I'm surprised Parvati or Lavender didn't bring one with them."

"Parvati says she's always wanted one, and Lavender didn't really care much. Where did you get it?"

"Luna let me borrow it. I asked her this morning."

Hermione looked back at him with eyes bright with laughter. "Was this before or after Ron asked her?"

"A bit after. She took a seat at our table for a bit after he asked, and I took advantage of the situation."

"It's a pretty song."

Harry nodded. "I heard it two summers ago. Dudley borrowed a CD from his friend. He didn't like it much. I stole into his room one day and had a listen. Been stuck in my head ever since."

Hermione looked at him sadly. She had forgotten the life that Harry had to live with his relatives. Sneaking into his cousin's room just to listen to a song just wasn't right. He shifted his feet, avoiding her eyes, and knowing exactly what she was thinking.

In an effort to change the topic or get their minds off of his misfortunes, he started to sing under his breath the last verse along with music and she noticed that they were the words he was mouthing out earlier.

_Drink up one more time,_

_And I'll make you mine._

_Keep you apart,_

_Deep in my heart, _

_Separate from the rest, _

_Where I like you the best,_

_And keep the things you forget…_

Harry wandered to the couch and picked up a pastry. The music stopped and he sat down, taking a look around the room. Yes, this definitely was a nice place. Why he didn't think of it before was beyond him. The crackling sound signalling the playing of another song made him pause and sit up.

_Des yeux qui font baisser les miens  
Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche  
Voilà le portrait sans retouches  
De l'homme auquel j'appartiens…_

The foreign words reached his ears and he looked at Hermione with a raised eyebrow.

"What's this?"

She only grinned and said, "Listen."

It had an old classic sound to it and oddly reminded him of an old 1940's movie he had seen in Mrs. Figg's home. Only that film had been in a language he understood. He listened to the woman's husky mournful voice singing the words and half wished that Fleur was here to translate.

"Care to explain?"

She walked over to him and pulled him up then led him by the hand to the middle of the room.

_Quand il me prend dans ses bras  
Il me parle tout bas  
Je vois la vie en rose  
Il me dit des mots d'amour  
Des mots de tous les jours_

_Et ça m'fait quelque chose…  
_

"My parents took me for a vacation in Paris when I was 11. It was wonderful. On the night before we left there was a ball held on the terrace. Oh, it was beautiful, Harry. Picture elegant dressed couples, swaying together to the live band. Lights strung here and there, stars glittering in the sky. Naturally, I was too young to attend, but our window overlooked the terrace and I remember perching on the sill, pressing myself up against the glass." Her eyes took on a far away look as she continued, "and if I squinted just right, I could make out my mum and dad on the dance floor. I couldn't see the people, but above the mindless chatter I could hear the music clearly."

"Let me guess. It was this song, wasn't it?"

"I absolutely fell in love it. I even opened the window and leaned out. My mum found me asleep, leaning out the window by the time they came up. They were sorely angry with me the next morning, but oh, Harry, the song was just beautiful."

"So you bought the CD the next morning, didn't you?"

"Actually, I couldn't find it. It's not funny Harry, I was devastated."

Harry quickly put on a contrite face.

"And now, after all these years you're listening to it."

"Thanks to you."

Harry bowed.

_Il est entré dans mon coeur  
Une part de bonheur  
Dont je connais la cause  
C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui, dans la vie  
Il me l'a dit  
l'a juré  
pour la vie…  
_

"Now are you going to ask me to dance or not?" Hermione asked him.

Harry blinked. When she didn't say anything he said, "Oh, you're serious?"

Hermione had surprised herself as well when uttering those words, but there was no turning back now.

"Was there any other reason for you borrowing this from Luna?"

"Er, for you to listen to music? Come on, Hermione, you know I don't dance."

"Well now is the perfect time to learn."

"I didn't say that I didn't know how," Harry said defensively, to which he earned a raised eyebrow from Hermione.

"Alright, fine. I'm not the best dancer in the world. We don't have to do this, Hermione."

"Look, the song's starting again, now take my hand. It's not that hard. It will come naturally," she said now all business-like. Her face and tone serious, she took his arm and placed it around her waist. Harry swallowed.

_Who's seducing whom now? _He thought.

_Just friends. It's only a dance. _Was the mantra in her head.

Taking his hand in hers, she led and he followed somewhat clumsily, but getting into the hang of things as the music went on.

This was too close. What in the world was she thinking? Unbidden, Ginny's joking words popped in her head. It was the moment before the Yule Ball, and Hermione had worriedly said, "There'll be music playing."

"Yes, dear. And you know, music leads to dancing, and dancing leads to touching."

She smiled at the recollection. _Just a dance, indeed._

"What's so funny?" Harry asked.

"Nothing."

"I'm not that bad am I?" he said.

"You're doing wonderfully, Harry," she assured with a smile and mistakenly looked up at him. Her mouth went dry. Yes, they were awfully close. She wondered if he could feel her racing heart straining to jump out of her chest.

"La vie en rose. What does that mean?" he asked her.

"Life in pink. It's an expression. Life is beautiful."

"That's optimistic. Too bad I can't understand the rest."

"I can't believe that this song isn't the least bit familiar to you. It's pretty well known in the muggle world."

_Et dès que je l'aperçois  
Alors je sens dans moi  
Mon coeur qui bat…  
_

Harry just shrugged in answer and she shook her head in amusement and said, "Well, I do know the English version-"

"Why am I not surprised?" Harry teased and Hermione slapped him in the arm playfully.

"Oh be quiet."

They fell silent. Both very aware of each other.

_Des nuits d'amour à plus finir  
Un grand bonheur qui prend sa place  
Les ennuis, les chagrins s'effacent  
Heureux, heureux à en mourir…_

She didn't know that there was a space between them until he pulled her closer to him and whispered, "Lost in the music, huh?" his voice filled her ears and all she could feel was the arm wrapped gently around her waist and his eyes burying deep within her.

"You can say that," she said quietly to herself.

Unbeknownst to her, he was leaning in, eyes shut and inhaling her scent. The music enveloped them and wrapped them in its embrace. The world fell away and there was only their swaying motions and the music that beckoned them to continue and never cease.

_Quand il me prend dans ses bras  
Il me parle tout bas  
Je vois la vie en rose  
Il me dit des mots d'amour  
Des mots de tous les jours  
Et ça m'fait quelque chose…_

"See?" she said quietly, "I told you to just let it come naturally. There's really nothing to it."

"Yeah, I guess I learned from the best."

"And who was this?" she asked curiously.

"Parvati."

"You're serious?"

"She led me most of the time. I was too busy eyeing Cho and Cedric," Harry said laughing at himself.

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Was that really three years ago?"

"Last time I checked, yeah it was."

_Il est entré dans mon coeur  
Une part de bonheur  
Dont je connais la cause  
C'est toi pour moi, moi pour toi, dans la vie  
Tu me l'as dit  
l'as juré  
pour la vie…  
_

Without realizing, she rested her head on his chest. His heart thudded in her ears and his arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer.

"Everything is moving so quickly," she said with a hint of sadness.

"Change is good," he said and she looked up at him, surprised to find his bright eyes so close to her own.

"Not all the time," she whispered.

_Et dès que je t'aperçois  
Alors je sens dans moi  
Mon coeur qui bat  
_

She could almost feel the ghost of his lips brushing against hers, and her breath caught in her throat in anticipation. Would he dare? But more importantly, did she want him to? He let go of her hand and instead ran his thumb along the curve of her cheek, holding her gaze. He whispered her name, closing the distance between them. There was a sweet feather light brush of his lips, and Hermione soon became aware that the music had long since stopped, and the dangerous situation that as about enfold. Before anything could happen she turned her head away and stepped out of his embrace.

"Oh, look the song is over. I should stop it before it starts again, shouldn't I?" she said quickly and went on to put distance between them.

Harry's heart was racing and he couldn't help but feel cheated out of something. He was currently praising Luna for her suggestion to bring the contraption into the room when Hermione turned back to face him, cheeks aflame.

"Well, that wasn't so bad was it?" she said, flustered and Harry felt a surge of pride knowing that he had caused such a stir within her.

"Not bad at all," he said, which only caused her to flush once more and rush to the couch.

"Pumpkin juice?" she said while holding out a glass.

"I'll just have tea, thanks," he said.

She smiled fleetingly, tossed back the glass and began to refill it. Harry walked up to one of the shelves, giving her time to gather herself. He eyed the list of titles.

"Find something you like?" she asked from the couch.

"Actually, no. Not a decent quidditch book in sight."

"Well this is _my _room of relaxation isn't it?"

Harry chuckled at her remark and continued to study the shelves. Nothing. He walked over to the fireplace and placed an arm on the mantle, staring at the flames.

"So are we just going to ignore what happened?"

Harry turned at her words and looked at her questioningly.

"What?"

"You know very well, what I'm talking about, Harry," she said meeting his gaze steadily from her seat on the couch.

"Well, that depends on what we choose to ignore. The dance or…" and he let that hang.

"Or the fact that you tried to kiss me?" Hermione finished for him, managing to keep her voice steady though the slight rouge in her cheeks betrayed her feelings.

"Well you weren't exactly fighting me off, were you?"

Hermione looked away, embarrassed.

"Harry,"

In three strides he closed the distance between them and fell to his knees. The current tableau reminded Hermione of the dream she had had earlier. His eyes burned as they pierced her and when he spoke his voice sounded fierce and raw with emotion.

"Don't tell me that you didn't want to. Don't tell me that you don't feel the same, Hermione because I know you do."

Her lip trembled.

"But we can't."

"And what's stopping us?"

"Please, Harry."

"If it's Ron, then it's fine. He's okay with it."

"No it's not-"

"Then what is it? School? Because if you need space I'll give you some."

Hermione shook her head and looked at her hands twisting in her lap. Harry bent his head to have a look at her face.

"Look at me, Hermione. Tell me what it is. If it's because of me then I promise you I won't let anyone hurt you."

_Too late. _

"It's not you." Hermione said as her vision blurred.

"Then what is it, Hermione?" he paused and swallowed before continuing in a quiet voice, "Is it… is there…someone else?"

"No!" she said looking up at him and dashing her tears away. She took a deep breath to calm herself and repeated in a softer tone, "No. There's no one, Harry."

He raised his hand as if to brush the hair from her eyes but it froze in mid motion and he slowly let it rest on the couch. "Hermione," he began but she cut him off with a shake of her head and looked at him imploringly.

"Please, Harry. I can't talk about this now. Please. Just let it go."

His eyes searched hers as if they could find her answer there.

"I can't," he said finally, breaking the heavy silence.

Tears leaked out of her shut eyes and she lay down on her side.

"I won't," he continued.

She felt the shadow of his fingers pushing away the curtain of hair that fell across her face and she felt his lips on her forehead before they brushed her ear as he finished with a whispered:

"I love you."

Her eyes fluttered open at his final words, but he had already stood up; the sound of his retreating footsteps reached her ears. She shut her eyes once more as anguished tears cascaded down her features.

_You don't mean that. Please tell me you don't mean that. _

She could hear the song in her head. Hear the woman's mournful voice singing the foreign words. Hear the band playing the echo from the past, and like a mockery of the moment, the version she knew and understood sang in her ears and it didn't cease until sleep took her.

_Hold me close and hold me fast_

_The magic spell you cast_

_This is la vie en rose_

_When you kiss me, Heaven sighs_

_And though I close my eyes_

_I see la vie en rose_

_When you press me to your heart_

_I'm in a world apart_

_A world where roses bloom_

_And when you speak _

_Angels sing from above_

_Every day words_

_Seem to turn into love songs_

_Give your heart and soul to me_

_And life will always be_

_La vie en rose…_


	10. A confession, an argument, a kiss

Disclaimer: The few characters that you don't recognize belong to me and all the rest come from the mind of the talented Ms. Rowling.

Author's Notes: I apologize if any words in the quote below from the movie Gangster No. 1 (how I love Paul Bettany) are wrong. I just bought the dvd yesterday and Bettany's performance inspired me to write the long awaited scene you'll have at the end of this chapter. The movie wasn't accompanied with subtitles so I just wrote by ear.

Wow, you're all amazing. Thanks for all of the reviews, they were wonderful. They actually forced me to get this chapter out sooner. So I thank you all for the inspiration. Alright, so the scene at the end is my first attempt at such an act and I hope that it's not cheesy, or childish or half hearted. I don't want to spoil anything so I'm going to leave you all to it.

* * *

_And you Mr. Freddie Maze,_

_You have the girl swimming in your eyes,_

_Dancing in her hair._

_You'll have to slip into her mouth,_

_Slide over her tongue, _

_Fall down her throat._

_Deep down into her belly,_

_Right into her blood_

_Where you'll fall asleep_

_Wrapped around her beautiful, _

_beating heart_

_- Gangster No. 1_

Harry was jolted awake. His hand fumbled for his glasses. Grasping them with a sleepy groan of success he rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes and placed his glasses on. He blinked. Rows of bookshelves greeted him. Not sure if he was trapped in a dream or a nightmare, Harry stretched and pushed himself up off the tiny chair which poorly served as his bed. A crack of sunlight poured through the volumes of books that filled the shelves, and the events of last night exploded through his memory. He turned the corner and blinked when the early morning sun hit his eyes. A blanket of snow covered the ground, and he looked up at the clear sky. _A good day for flying. _He thought wistfully.

A fearful whimper reached his ear and his head snapped to the right in the direction of the sound. He trotted up to the banister over looking the first floor of the room. On the couch, curled into a foetal position, fists clenched, lay Hermione. Her eyes squeezed shut and her brow was furrowed. Concerned, Harry made his way down the winding staircase to the couch. The fire had long since died out and the food and stray cups and glasses from last night had been cleared, but Harry brushed aside all amazement for Dobby's efficiency and concentrated on the girl before him. She shuddered violently for a moment and her face screwed up.

"It won't happen. I won't let you do it. I don't care," she murmured in a fitful sleep and Harry placed his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to gently shake her awake. He called out her name. She buried her face in her fists and shook her head more vigorously as she replied with a fiercely whispered, "No."

Now clearly worried, Harry repeated her name louder and shook her harder until with a gasp, her eyes flew open. He watched the confusion cloud her features as she struggled to focus.

"Harry?" she said as she looked up at him quizzically.

"Yeah. Yeah it's me. You were just having a nightmare. You're awake now."

Hermione nodded and blinked a few times as she looked around.

"We're still here?"

He looked at her sheepishly, "Yeah, er, I meant to wake you up earlier so you can have a proper sleep in your dorm, but I guess I fell asleep too."

She nodded and sat up. "What time is it?" she said running her hands through her hair.

Harry looked at his watch (he had finally remembered to replace his old one) and he swallowed a yawn.

"It's seven thirty."

"Alright."

She stood and he followed her to the door, pausing when she stopped in the doorway for one last look around. Her gaze fell on his and with a shy smile she said, "Thanks for this, Harry. Really. It was fantastic."

"Yeah, no problem," he answered and wondered at the same time if she remembered what he had said to her last night. Knowing Hermione, she was probably at the moment running through the entire night in her head as they now walked down the hall. They didn't bother to put on the invisibility cloak.

It was a comfortable silence that hovered over them, while they walked through the deserted corridors. Harry was left to his thoughts so it came as a surprise when Hermione had abruptly stopped before a door on his left.

"Well," she said. "I'll just use the prefects' baths. I'll see you in the Great Hall?"

"Er, yeah," Harry answered and saying the password, she disappeared behind the door leaving Harry standing alone in the hall.

* * *

"I'm an idiot," Harry muttered as he stared mournfully at his breakfast.

"You told her? Are off your end?" Ron said.

They were sitting at the nearly empty Gryffindor table. The moment Harry had stepped into the boys dormitories, he had debated on whether to drown himself in the shower or to ask Ron to smother him. Ron had told him to leave it until after breakfast.

"Well, I wasn't really thinking at the moment, was I?" Harry said with a glare in Ron's direction.

Ron nodded a hello to a semi-conscious Neville who took a seat a bit further down the table and buried himself in a book.

"Little too late to take anything back now, mate."

"I don't want to take anything back."

"Then why are you complaining?" Ron asked.

"Dunno. Feel like it I suppose." Harry said as he continued to have a staring contest with his breakfast.

He wondered if he was winning.

"Listen, on the bright side you've got nothing to hide from her now, right? And it's now all on her to decide if she wants to accept your confession or chuck it."

"Nicely put."

"Anytime, mate. Now eat up before it gets cold."

"Not hungry," Harry mumbled.

"Well that doesn't matter now, does it? Gotta be charged for the game tonight, right?"

Harry gave Ron a confused look.

"Game? What ga- oh, sodding hell. I completely forgot."

"Forgot what?" Ginny said seating herself beside Harry.

"I cannot believe you forgot about the game!" Ron said after scarfing down his eggs.

"Must have other things on your mind, eh Harry?" Ginny asked him with a smug smile and his eyes narrowed.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She began to butter her toast. "Oh, nothing."

Ron eyed her from across the table. "Why're you so cheery this morning?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Ron. Can't I make a simple comment? Anyway, where do you plan on taking her today?"

"What are you going on about?" Ron asked her.

"Don't tell me you forgot about your date with Luna."

His ears burned at this comment and he answered, hotly, " 'Course not. I was thinking of taking her to Zonko's, Honeydukes then the Three Broomsticks."

Ginny looked scandalized.

"You cannot be serious."

"What? What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong with what?" Hermione asked taking a seat beside Ron.

Harry caught her eye and she smiled shyly at him before turning to look at Ron questioningly.

Before Ron could utter a word, Ginny said, "Ron's planning on taking Luna to shops for their date today."

Hermione 'tsked' and shook her head as she reached for the bread.

"What? What's wrong with shops? And it's not just shops. We're going to the Three Broomsticks after," Ron said defensively.

Hermione only nodded as if listening to a three year old boy tell a tale about climbing a tree. Ron looked at Harry helplessly, but Harry only shrugged.

"Don't you want to think of something a bit more, oh I don't know, romantic?" Ginny asked.

Hermione hid her smile behind her hand and Harry looked at her curiously. She only glanced at him innocently before taking a sip of her pumpkin juice and saying, "Really, Ron. It is your first date after all."

Looking extremely disconcerted, Ron opened his mouth and closed it again, looking at Harry for help. Moments later Ginny laughed and Hermione grinned, placing a hand on Ron's arm. "We're only joking, Ron. I'm sure Luna will have a wonderful time," she apologized.

"Right," Ron said distractedly and Harry knew that he was now going through his head the few romantic places that Hogsmead had to offer.

"It'll be fine," Harry assured, though Ron didn't look the least bit consoled. Ginny's eyes lingered at a spot behind Harry and in a few gulps, she finished her pumpkin juice and gathered her things.

"Lighten up, big brother," she said, standing and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "She fancies you. No matter what, she'll have a great time." Ruffling his hair and laughing at his indignant look, she left the room.

"She's right, you know," Hermione said and Ron nodded. Silence settled upon them for a moment and the chattering of the students slowly filling the Great Hall surrounded them.

"I talked to Professor Flitwick last night," Ron said suddenly.

"When?" Hermione asked.

"It was a bit after you two left. I waited to tell you but you guys never came back."

At this Hermione flushed, avoiding Harry's eyes and said, "We lost track of time and fell asleep."

Ron glanced at Harry while Hermione was busy eating. Harry narrowed his eyes at him and Ron stifled his grin.

"Well, anyway, he didn't really tell me much, but that there were at least two people who managed to come in here, and they think that it's the same two people who've been sneaking into the castle these past few months."

Harry nodded. "Well they can't apparate or use a portkey, and it's not like anyone is gonna just let two death eaters stroll in. So how d'you think they managed to get in unseen?"

"Invisibility cloak?" Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No, remember what happened to us when we tried to walk around under that thing? These are two grown men, possibly your height, maybe even taller. And they would also have to move fairly quickly."

"What about a polyjuice? Crouch got in with that," Harry remarked with a grimace.

This time it was Ron's turn to shake his head. "Won't work, mate. These were trained wizards. They knew what they were doing and their bodies were equipped for stealth and speed. One probably was used for muscle if trouble came. Either way, running around in a body like Snape's or Wellington's wouldn't do for that type of work."

Elusive and fast. Harry chewed thoughtfully as he contemplated what human can possibly accomplish that. His head shot up.

"Sirius."

"What?" Ron looked at Harry in confusion.

Hermione blinked up at him but in seconds her face lit up. "Harry! You're brilliant! In his animagus form, Sirius was the only one who has managed to get into and through the castle undetected."

"So, what, we search for any animal that doesn't belong?" Ron asked.

"That's the problem. They could be anything and anywhere and if they don't want to be seen, they won't," Hermione said.

"And they're too careful to leave anything behind. So where does that leave us?" Ron asked.

Hermione picked at her food and said, "I don't know."

There was a moment of silence until Hermione turned to Harry and asked, "You said that Petra was taken after Christmas break?"

"Yeah, why?"

Hermione stood.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked.

"Where else? I'll see you two in the common room."

* * *

She was in the Restricted Section. She held a sheet of parchment in her hands and in it was scrawled four titles. Three were scratched out.

"Need any help?" a voice said and Hermione looked to her right to find a girl who's name she couldn't remember standing beside her.

"No, I'm fine thank you," she said and continued to scan the shelf. _Where is it? _

"This for school?" the girl asked.

"Yes," Hermione lied.

"Why don't you ask for help?" the girl said.

"Because I don't need any," Hermione said firmly.

"Well," the girl said, not taking the hint and stepping forward. "looks to me like you do."

Hermione grit her teeth in annoyance and turned to the girl. She looked to be no more than fourteen years old and Hermione puffed out her chest, Head Girl badge shining.

"Do you have a pass to be in here? This is the Restricted Section."

The girl grinned in answer, not seeming fazed by the look Hermione was giving her or the badge that was pinned to her robes. She held out a scrap of parchment with Professor Snape's signature scratched on it. Annoyed at the slip in the girl's hand, Hermione huffed and said, "Well, did you find what you needed?"

"No. And you won't either."

Hermione blinked. "Excuse me?"

The girl flushed. "I saw the title on your parchment and thought you needed a hand so I looked and, no luck," she finished sheepishly.

Hermione didn't know if she should feel insulted or thankful. "Well, thank you but I think I'll have another look around," she said and the girl nodded in answer.

"Suit yourself." She held out her hand, "I'm Eran Lot, by the way."

"Hermione Granger."

They shook hands.

"Good luck with the book, and try Madame Pince if you come empty handed. Wouldn't hurt," Eran said with a wave and walked out of the library. Much later, face set, and tugging at the chain of her necklace, Hermione exited empty handed.

* * *

"They took a book." Hermione said as the three of them walked to the place where Ron was supposed to meet Luna.

"What?"

"They took a book. I looked for it and asked Madame Pince. She said that it's been missing since Christmas."

"What would they want with a book?"

"This wasn't any ordinary book, Ron. It was taken from the Restricted Section."

"Then doesn't Dumbledore know?"

"Yes, but Madame Pomfrey said that it wasn't stolen. It was lost. She said a student from Slytherin had taken it."

"Malfoy," Ron said darkly.

"Ron, don't start. She didn't say it was Malfoy."

"Then who?" Harry asked.

"Well, actually she told me that it was none of my business as to who had borrowed the item."

"Malfoy."

"Ron!"

"What book was this?" Harry asked.

"It had to do with Dream Walking."

When the boys looked at her in confusion she said, "Listen. All of the girls that were taken are between the ages of eleven and fourteen right? And those are the ages needed for it to work. So far he's taken five and he needs seven plus the power source. So that's eight."

"Wait. Are you saying that You-Know-Who is attempting to Dream Walk?"

_He already has. _

"Yes. In order to do so he needs blood, inheritance and a token. The latter must be connected to the victim and the formers to the Brotherhood."

"So you're saying that You-Know-Who is using Dream Walking to get into Harry's head?" Ron asked.

Hermione hesitated. "I didn't say Harry."

But with a grim face Harry said, "Who else would he be after, Hermione?"

She didn't answer this and only looked at her feet.

"You've gotta take up those lessons again, mate," Ron said looking shaken, but Harry only grit his teeth in answer. "I know, I hate him too but it can't be helped. You remember what McGonagall said, once you're taken there's no escape," Ron continued.

"Now that is absolute rubbish!" Hermione said fiercely. The boys stared at her a bit taken aback by her outburst, but she chose to ignore this. "There is a way to drive off the madness. There has to be."

Ron turned to Harry looking concerned. "You haven't been having any wonky dreams, have you?"

"No," Harry said with a shake of his head.

"Right. I reckon we just have to keep an eye out," he paused before continuing, "and somehow find how those girls are connected, and who's next." He sighed and scratched the back of his neck.

Harry nodded his head towards Luna who was approaching them with a smile on her face. "We'll talk about this later. You worry about your date, okay?" And just like that the troubled air around them dissipated. Luna came up to them and smiled contentedly up at Ron. "Hello, Ronald." He only had eyes for her. "Hey," he said with a grin. Harry and Hermione nodded their greetings and the four of them followed the crowd of students out the doors.

* * *

"So, er, we're gonna go for a bit of a walk. See you later?" Ron said as Luna took his arm.

"Oh yeah, see you," Harry raised a hand in goodbye and the four of them separated. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at Hermione who busied herself with her gloves. She seemed to have decided that last night had never happened. Harry's breath came out in a billow of smoke as he sighed heavily. He would have none of that. She wasn't going to ignore this any longer. He took her arm. "Hey, Hermione?"

She looked up at him, cheeks pink, though if it was from the cold or his touch he didn't know. Her eyes darted to glance at their contact, but Harry refused to remove his hand.

"I'm a bit cold. You want to head inside somewhere?" she asked.

"Er, yeah. We could go to Honeydukes," he said thinking that the atmosphere would probably take her mind off any lingering tension between them.

"Sure."

They walked in silence as they headed for the store.

This was not at all how he wanted things to be, and she couldn't believe that she had forgotten Ron on a date meant that the two of them would be alone. Together.

_You've spent plenty of alone time with him, dear. There's nothing to fret about. _A voice in her head, sounding much like her own, said to herself.He opened the door for her and they stepped in.

"Thinking of getting anything?" he asked.

"Maybe some Bertie Botts."

"Right."

The two of them were separated by the swarm of bodies and Hermione felt the need to take a steadying breath. "You're acting ridiculous," she muttered to herself as she selected a bag of candy. Purchasing her things, she searched for Harry and the two of them exited the store. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and she focused her gaze elsewhere.

Harry sighed. "Hermione-"

"Shall we go to Fred and George's shop then?"

He held her gaze and nodded in consent. The air was writhing with pent up tension between them as they made their way to the Weasley's joke shop. A tinkling bell sang their arrival and Harry held the door open for her. They stepped in and were promptly surprised to see the shop filled with pulsing bodies, some not human. With a loud squawk the bird on the stairs quickly transformed back into an excited second year.

"I'll take it!" she said triumphantly.

Muffled explosions, loud pops and all kind of strange sounds mixed with much gaiety overwhelmed the two of them and they stood rooted to the spot, taking everything in.

"Hey, Harry! Hermione! Great to see you. Don't be shy now, come on in!" Fred, or George (Harry really couldn't tell) slapped him on the back in greeting.

"It looks like the shop is a success," Hermione said, impressed. She ducked as a streak of blond zoomed over her head and around the room.

"Oh, it's huge, Hermione! Fred's with some of the customers right now, trying out our latest stuff."

The three of them turned to see Fred surrounded by a gaggle of customers; some having a lick at their candied apples and surprisingly camouflaging to their surroundings. The three of them ducked when Colin shot by them once more.

"Are you sure that is safe?" Hermione said worriedly looking at the few kids flying around the room.

"Oh, sure. Fred and I tested 'em out ourselves."

Hermione nodded but she didn't look convinced.

"Want to have a go?" Fred asked and they answered at the same time,

"Sure!"

"Oh, no."

"Harry," Hermione said exasperatedly as she looked at the young man grinning down at her.

"Come on Hermione. It looks like fun."

"Oh, it's loads of fun!" George said excitedly and promptly withdrew a handful of sweets from his robes. "Here, and have some Camouflapples. On the house."

"Oh, George, we shouldn't," Hermione said with a shake of her head, but he only took her hands and placed the handful of sweets in them.

"Nonsense. Take 'em." He dove into his pockets and produced another mound of sweets, grabbed Harry's hand and dumped the pile into them. He then pulled the two protesting students aside and produced two bags from his robes. Harry wondered just how big George's pockets were. "Here, bag em. Try them out and tell your friends. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes: they're sweet to eat and handy too."

Harry laughed. "Thought of that yourself didn't you?"

"Took me all night. Fred seems to like it though."

The door sang its tinkling tune.

"Oh, more customers. Go on, have a look around. If you need anything talk to Ned." And with that George left.

Harry turned to Hermione and asked, "Ned? Whose Ned?" As soon as the words left his mouth there was a blur of green and without warning a rather short, balding man with laughing eyes appeared before them. Hermione jumped and the man opened his mouth to take a breath before saying, "Hey how'ya doing? Welcome t' the shop. Ned's the name. First timers I see. Well if you have any questions, preferences, desires, death wishes-"

"Death wishes?" Harry repeated but Ned seemed to not hear him and continued without pause, "dreams, if you want to disappear, have a laugh, play a game, need a friend, a lift, a pet then just give me a call and I'll be there in a blink of an eye," he finished and looked up at them expectantly.

Hermione just stared at him open-mouthed, wondering where the twins had found this character.

"Er," Harry began and Ned's head darted to look at him expectantly. "We're just here to look around thanks."

"Alright, son. Take a gander and if you need me just holler," he said with a nod and as if in answer to his statement someone from the far corner of the store shouted, "Oy, Ned!" and with a bow and a grin he was gone in a flash.

Harry stared at the spot where the man used to be just moments ago. "That was strange," he said and suddenly Hermione let out a laugh. His face broke into a grin and all the tension seemed to melt away. Now with renewed confidence and a twinkle in his eye, Harry led Hermione around the room. When he groped around in his bag, Hermione looked at him warily.

"You're actually going to try it?"

"Yeah. Aren't you?"

"You're mental."

"Come on, Hermione. George himself said that it's safe."

In response to this, Hermione only gave him a look and Harry laughed. "Alright, well look up. They're not getting hurt are they?"

Hermione craned her neck to look at the ceiling, and was surprised to see dozens of kids flying and floating. She shivered. Looking back down, she almost let out a shriek as Harry suddenly rose into the air.

"Harry! Get down!"

He only grinned. "Can't, gotta let it wear off."

She watched him with a wary eye as he zoomed around the room and came to rest on the high shelf by her head.

"This is brilliant, Hermione!"

But she shook her head and looked at him fearfully.

"Harry, you know I'm afraid of flying."

"And I won't let you fall. I promise." He slowly sank to her level and stretched out his hand. "Fly with me," he said.

She bit her lip and scrutinized him. "How long does it last?" she asked.

"You'll take a nibble and it'll be for a few moments only."

"What if we fall?"

"I'll catch you," he said with a shrug.

"Harry!"

He laughed and assured her once more, "We'll sink slowly to the ground. It's safe. I promise."

She was silent for a moment. This was incredibly different from a broom. For one thing, there was nothing holding her up and another she had no idea when it would wear off.

"Don't you trust me?"

"Oh don't be ridiculous, of course I do."

"Then fly with me. You'll be safe I promise you that."

Hesitantly, she reached into her bag and produced a small piece of candy. She scrutinized it with narrowed eyes.

"Relax," he said with a laugh.

Hermione looked up at him warningly and brought the candy to her lips. Slowly she shut her eyes and took a small bite out of it.

She swallowed.

Nothing happened.

Well what was she expecting, an explosion? Yes. Yes, in fact she was. But there was no explosion. She didn't spontaneously combust. Instead, she felt Harry's hand slip into hers but she refused to open her eyes when she felt a stirring within the pit of her stomach.

"Oh god," she whispered.

"Relax. You're doing fine."

He wrapped his arms around her and she felt gravity shift.

"I want to go back down," she said in a shaky voice as he pulled her back to his chest.

"But the ride isn't over yet," he said.

"Then I want it to be over," she said, not realizing the much deeper meaning to their current conversation.

"You can't stop it, Hermione. Just open your eyes and let it happen."

She shook her head fiercely and her grip on him tightened. Her eyes remained shut.

"Open your eyes, Hermione. Look, we're not that high," he whispered and she could feel his breath on her cheek.

"Don't let me go," she said, her voice oddly high pitched. He pressed her closer to him.

"I never will. Now open your eyes, Hermione," he said. "Just open your eyes."

Feeling as if she was going to throw up, she tentatively opened one eye then another. The tops of their heads reached the banister of the third floor. A child shrieking with laughter zoomed around them and shot towards the high ceiling. Harry looked up at the child enviously. Hermione gasped. She turned her head towards his chest, and clung to him with a death-like grip.

"Alright I have my eyes open. Can we go down now?" she squeaked nervously.

They glided across the room over the heads of many customers.

"In a moment, love," he said then sighed, "If only we can go outside." He looked longingly out the window.

Hermione shook her head in protest. "No no. Inside is fine."

There was a flash and Harry looked down to spot Colin sporting his camera. Several heads were turned up as George pointed out Harry and Hermione's progression. Then hands instantly shot out expectantly and George placed a candy in each awaiting palm. He flashed Harry a grin. If the boy-who-lived was doing it, why couldn't they? _Wonderful. I've become a marketing asset. _"Least it's for a good cause," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Hermione asked with her eyes trained firmly on his shoulder.

"Nothing. It's not so bad is it?" he asked, but she didn't answer him.

There was a funny feeling in her stomach once more and the ground seemed to rise towards them at a steady pace.

"See? It's almost over. It's wearing off. Any moment now," Harry assured and when Hermione's feet firmly touched the floor, she shivered.

He looked down at her and said, "You alright?"

"Remind to never listen to you ever again," she muttered against his chest and Harry laughed in response.

"Next time we'll go higher."

"Next time?" she said stepping from his embrace, but Harry just grinned and took her hand, leading her out of the store.

Once outside she wrapped her arms around herself against the cold.

"Where to now?" Harry asked.

"Well, seeing as you had me fly around a room _without_ a broom, I'd say that you in fact owe me."

Taking his hand, she led him down the street to the bookstore.

* * *

An hour and a bag laden with a book and several quills later, the two of them trooped out of the shop. Still laughing at their private joke, Harry gathered himself and held out his hand expectantly. Hermione just looked at his outstretched arm directed at her bags and raised an eyebrow.

"Can I help you with anything, Harry?"

"I just thought I'd help you with your bags."

"Oh, because I'm not perfectly capable of holding anything on my own is that it?"

"Wha- no I just thought I could help."

Hermione smiled at him, "It's alright, Harry. I'm fine. What time is it?"

Harry looked at his watch. "It's nearly three. We've got about and hour before the carriages come. Wanna go grab some Butterbeers?"

Hermione nodded and they headed for the Three Broomsticks.

"You think Ron and Luna are there?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. We'll see them if they are."

"Yeah."

They passed the quidditch shop and in the window lay the new firebolt and several other quidditch supplies. Harry paused before the window.

"Do you ever think of buying a new one?" Hermione asked.

"No, I know it sounds stupid, but my firebolt is my last link to Sirius. I know I have Grimmauld Place but this is different. I can't explain it."

The glass reflected the two figures standing in the snow. Hermione looked up at him and placed a hand on his arm. Her touch made him turn to look at her and she said, "It's not stupid."

They stood there for a moment and people came and went through the doors of the store.

"Do you want to go in?" Hermione asked.

He tore his gaze away from the display. "No, let's have that drink instead." he said, surprising her.

A group of students came up to the window with exclamations of delight and wonder on their features. The two of them turned and continued to walk on.

"You know," he said causing her to look at him as they walked. "I completely forgot about the game today."

"You can't be serious."

"No, really. Ron had to remind me. It's weird, I mean, quidditch is the one thing that makes me feel completely and absolutely free from everything. When I'm up there, everything just…falls away, you know? The school, Sirius, my parents, even Voldemort. I forget it all. And all I know and think of is the snitch. I just have to get the snitch." He looked down at her as he pulled open the door to the Three Broomsticks. "It's a great feeling, Hermione, and I just find it weird that this morning I forgot about the one thing I can lose myself in."

They stepped into the pub and scanned the area for a familiar face or an empty table.

"Maybe you just have more on your mind lately," Hermione said, feeling the familiar tension that had taken a hold of her earlier. She could feel his eyes on her and she scanned the pub for any sign of Ron and Luna. She finally spotted them talking in the far back, both looking oblivious to their surroundings. When Luna laughed at whatever Ron had said, Hermione noticed his eyes soften into a look that seemed foreign on his features. It was a look that was meant for no one but the woman sitting with him, and Hermione strangely felt as if she was outside a window looking in on something so incredibly private that her cheeks flushed and she immediately turned away only to find that Harry was looking down at her. What she failed to notice in her flustered state was that the look that filled his green eyes mirrored the fire that Hermione had spotted in Ron's.

"They look busy. I'll find us an empty table," she said as she hurriedly stepped away from Harry, wanting to put as much distance between them as soon as possible. For an overwhelming indescribable feeling had overtaken her.

Some patrons got up and left a table and she scurried to the now empty bench and placed her bags on it before seating herself down. Her throat felt constricted and her breathing came out in unsteady gasps while she fumbled with her gloves. She didn't know what had come over her, but she knew that she had to calm herself and so, closing her eyes she attempted to do so. The problem was that when she opened them once again, a bottle had materialized in front of her and so had Harry, now seated on the bench opposite her. He took a swig from his bottle before looking at her and saying, "Tired?"

She shook her head, brought the bottle to her lips, and drank deeply.

"If I had known you were that thirsty I would have offered to come here earlier," Harry said with a wry smile, but Hermione only flushed and placed her bottle, now half empty, slowly onto the table.

Feeling the sudden change in her disposition towards him Harry fell silent and looked thoughtfully at his bottle before taking another swig. An awkward silence suddenly settled upon them and she stared at the table.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing. Why do ask?" she said.

"Well, you got quiet all of a sudden."

Hermione pushed her bottle from side to side, idly playing with it. "I've just got a lot on my mind lately," she said with half a smile, not taking her eyes off the fizzing drink.

Harry leaned towards her from across the table, deliberately brushing the hands that clasped the bottle with a ghost of a kiss. "Like, what happened last night," he said waiting for her to look up at him, but she didn't do what he expected her to do. She didn't even answer him.

Harry noted the catch in her throat, and saw the exact moment her heart raced to catch up with her sprinting thoughts. And still, she didn't answer him. Harry clenched his jaw.

"Can we talk about it at least?" he asked.

She seemed to be more fascinated with the bubbles racing to the surface than with the boy who looked imploringly at her with eyes that burned.

"And what if I don't want to talk about it right now?" she said with her eyes still trained to the bottle.

He wanted her to look at him.

"We can't ignore this forever, Hermione."

"Ignore what?" she said with feign confusion.

His eyes flared in disbelief and he pushed his bottle aside, leaned closer to her, and shook his head. "No. I know what you're trying to do and it won't work on me." He was met with silence, but this didn't make him shy away as she intended. It only spurred him on to get a reaction out of her. "Look at me, Hermione," he said as he plucked the bottle from her hands and placed it aside. The moment he had done so, her eyes rose to meet his. He saw the surprise harden to denial.

"Harry, I don't-"

"You remember _everything_. Every touch. Every glance. Every step. Every _word_, Hermione. I know you do. So don't even try that load of bollocks. You're better than that."

At this Hermione's cheeks flamed, and she sat up and lifted her chin at him. Harry ignored his sudden urge to kiss her.

"I am not trying anything, Harry. I'm just thinking rationally. There was soft music, the room was dimly lit, and we were alone," she ignored the disbelieving look that clouded his features and continued, "The dancing just added another touch to the romantic atmosphere. So naturally, your words fit the circumstances we were faced with."

His eyes darkened and he suddenly grasped her hand in his own, pulling her towards him.

"I meant every word," he said slowly and carefully.

She was shaking. Her mouth opened but words failed her. Then without warning, his disposition changed and his eyes softened as he raised a gentle hand to her cheek. Harry whispered her name. Her lip trembled, and with a fierce mental shake of her head she tore herself from his grasp and stood. Without a word she bolted from the table and pushed her way through the bustling crowd and out the door. The cold wind clawed at her with a vengeance and in dismay she suddenly remembered that she had forgotten her jacket. Feeling faint, she swallowed and fell against the street light only five steps away from the pub. Billows of smoke filled her vision with each gasping breath and she clutched her midsection and shivered violently.

She heard the familiar roar as the door opened allowing a certain figure out onto the nearly empty street. The door swung shut, cutting off the tumult of voices. Crunching footsteps made their way towards her and she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back tears.

"Here," the deep voice sounded and Harry slipped the jacket into her awaiting arms.

She quickly shrugged into it, wrapped the scarf around her neck and gratefully pulled the gloves over her trembling hands.

"Drink this, it'll warm you up," Harry said stepping closer to her and handing her the butterbeer.

She gratefully accepted it and brought the bottle to her lips. The liquid sent pleasant warmth though her chilled body and yet she still couldn't stop trembling. He was looking at her again and she stubbornly met his gaze with her own. "Thank you," she said quietly.

Snowflakes drifted lazily about them, and Harry nodded in answer before saying, "Now, where were we?"

Hermione sighed and raised her eyes to the sky in frustration. She cursed the tears that traitorously threatened to fall.

"Stop it, Harry. Why do you keep doing this! Why can't you just let it go!"

"Because that would mean letting you go," he said with eyes that caressed her trembling form. "and I can't do that, Hermione."

Two steps.

Two steps was all it took to have her back pressed against the dark iron and his warmth filling her senses.

"Please don't do this," she whispered as she felt him fit himself against her.

With one hand at her waist, he brought up his other hand to trace the tendrils of hair that brushed against her flushed features.

"Don't do what?" he asked and she could feel the warmth of his breath graze her skin with a ghost of a touch. He let his forehead fall to lean against her own as he proceeded to drown her with his eyes.

_Don't make me fall in love with you. _

"Please don't make this harder than it already is," she whispered instead.

His hand traveled to the nape of her neck and rested there. Snow matted his hair causing it to fall into his eyes.

"Then allow me to make it easier for you," he said and she dared not answer him.

Wind whipped through them, around them, against them, but they were ignorant to its taunting. His lips were dangerously close.

"Hermione," Harry breathed.

Hermione whimpered in answer. Brilliant green filled her vision and she shut her eyes and took a shaking breath.

"I can't," she managed to utter, her voice breaking.

"Yes. You can," Harry whispered and brushed his lips softly, tantalizingly, against her own.

His arm tightened around her waist pulling her against him. He wanted to deepen the kiss. He wanted to tear off those wretched layers of clothing that served as the only physical barrier between him and what his blood cried out for. Harry wanted to crawl inside her, bury himself deep and find the spot where he ended and she began. He wanted to feel her arching against him and hear his name escape her lips with a cry. He wanted to kiss her. At that moment however, fate decided to turn its pretty nose up at him.

The door to the Three Broomsticks opened.

"Hey, isn't that Harry?"

"Erm, Justin, I don't think now is a good time to-"

"Oh, come off it Neville. He won't mind." And with that Justin sealed his death wish by cupping his hands and shouting, "Oy, Harry!"

With a sudden jolt Hermione's eyes flew open and she pulled herself out of his grasp. Mortified at what Neville and Justin may have witnessed had she continued to allow her feelings to get a hold of her, she turned away and made to busy herself with buttoning up her jacket. She was surprised to find that the now empty bottle was still clutched in her gloved hands, and she tossed it in the trash.

Harry growled low in his throat at the sudden disruption and turned to find Justin trotting up to meet them. Neville hung in the back for a few moments. Then seeing as there wasn't any point, he slowly made his way towards them and gave Harry an apologetic look. Harry only had eyes for Justin.

"Hey, Justin."

"Hey, Hermione!" an oblivious Justin waved.

"Hello, Justin. Hey, Neville," Hermione managed to say weakly.

"You guys just come out of the Three Broomsticks? Neville and I spotted Ron with Luna. Didn't figure that, eh?"

Harry smiled thinly at him and simply said, "They look happy."

"Yeah, they do don't they?" He paused to rub his hands together before continuing, "Cold isn't it? I don't know how you're gonna survive up in the air at the game today."

"We'll manage."

"Guess so, yeah. Well, good luck Harry. We're going to grab a carriage. See you at the castle?"

"Right," Harry said, and with a good natured wave to Hermione, Justin turned to go.

Neville shrugged and said, "See you on the pitch, I suppose. Good luck and, er, sorry if we-"

Hermione shook her head at him and smiled. "It's alright, Neville. You didn't interrupt anything."

Neville's eyes darted to Harry uncertainly then back to Hermione. "Right, well. Cheers."

Hands in his pockets, he walked away, leaving Harry and Hermione alone once again. This time for the remainder of their moments alone together, they merely stood a small distance away from each other, their gazes never breaking. It was only when the sound of the door opening once more and a familiar laugh echoed in their ears that they blinked and reverted their eyes to their best friend, who was strolling towards them with an arm around the smaller blond haired witch. The couple didn't even seem to notice the pair until Ron finally looked up the path. Once he had spotted Harry and Hermione his face broke out into a grin.

"Hey Harry, Hermione! C'mon! We should grab a carriage before we freeze to death."

Much later, they were seated in the cozy warmth of the carriage, Ron's arm still around Luna, Hermione's hands nervously fidgeting on her lap, and Harry staring darkly out the window. The wind had died down and the snow was falling freely now. Ron stared at his best friends wondering what had transpired between them.

"So," he said, breaking the heavy silence and gaining the attention of the two sitting before him. "What'd you two do?"

* * *

"I can't believe what you did to me!"

"And what did I do to you, Hermione! Explain to me that."

"Oh you know very well what you did, Harry. And I do not appreciate you treating me like I'm some wanton whore who'll swoon into your arms with a crook of a finger!"

"You're saying that was _my _fault! Well, if you'd just stop being a sodding coward and open you're bleeding eyes then maybe, just maybe you wouldn't-"

"Don't you dare talk to me about that rubbish because I am tired of your-"

"Tired of my what!" Harry exploded and Hermione fought the urge to shirk away as he continued, "What, Hermione! Tired of my what! My attempts to get you to see the truth? To get you to stop running away? Bloody hell, Hermione! In all these six years I've known you, I've never seen you run away from something. Whether it was as dangerous as Voldemort or as simple as a school problem, you've never turned your back so why now?"

Hermione cast a wild look around the Gryffindor change room as she raked her fingers through her hair. The two of them were once again alone. At first sight of Hermione, Ron had gathered the rest of the team out into the hall. Ginny was now pressed up against the heavy door while Ron kept the rest of the team occupied. Though she needn't have strained her ears, for the shouts coming from within the room were loud enough to hear with the door wide open or shut tight. Harry was red in the face. His eyes flared and were sparking with green fire. Hermione' s cheeks were aflame with anger. Her hair wild from the constant grooming her fingers gave it. She took a steady breath to calm herself.

"Because."

"Don't give me that. I want a straight answer, Hermione. Because. What."

"It's not that simple!"

"How hard is it then? Do you fancy me or not?" Harry said.

Hermione took another breath, but she couldn't bring herself to say 'no'. _Oh, Harry. We can't. I'm not safe. _

Ron heard a faint whistle calling the teams to make their way out onto the pitch.

"Oy! Get away from there!" he said to the few team mates that managed to break away and hovered by the closed door. He raised a hand and knocked. The sharp sound brought Harry's attention to the door and his face darkened. Hermione shut her eyes in relief. Harry flung open the door.

"Time to go, mate," Ron said and Harry nodded. He looked back at Hermione who had her back to them.

"You'll be there?" he asked.

"Do you have to ask?" Hermione said.

With her back turned, she failed to see his features soften. Before they left he heard her say, "You'll be careful." It sounded more like an order than a question and Harry smiled.

"Yeah. I'll win, too."

Hermione knew the moment the team stepped out onto the snow laden pitch, for the crowd thundered in a mixture of cheers and boos. She sighed. "Let's hope that will happen only in quidditch," she answered him and walked out of the room.

* * *

He did it for her. He watched the game. He eyed the players. Saw them zip and turn and glide around the goal posts. He allowed himself a good old fashioned fist pumping into the air whenever his team mates managed to score on the opposing team. Then he would go back to scanning the pitch, watching their every move. He even caught a glimpse of the snitch once.

He did it all for her.

He guarded the posts with his life, and with each save and each dive, he thought: _This is for her_.

When he managed to spiral from one goal post to the other, stretching his arm out and knocking the quaffle out of harm's way, he had thought, _For her. _

When he spun and dived, barely missing an oncoming bludger aimed at his head and managing to block the quaffle, he had muttered, "For Luna."

Every block.

Every save.

Every hit.

Luna.

Luna.

Luna.

So it wasn't a surprise that Gryffindor had managed to beat Slytherin 250-0. He whooped and cheered with the rest as Harry glided around the pitch in a victory lap with the snitch caught tightly in his fist. A bright smile clung to his face and Ron saw him scanning the crowd of students rushing onto the pitch. Some slipped and slid on the snow, but none of that mattered. They had won. A cheering and singing Seamus and Dean hoisted Harry and Ron up on their shoulders and in a flurry or red and gold they trooped around the pitch once and headed back inside.

Ron scanned the bustling bodies for a familiar spark of blue. She smiled up at him and sang with the rest. His heart swelled and his cheeks hurt from grinning and laughing, but he didn't care. They had won. He had won. For her. For Luna. Giddy, Ron turned to his right to look at his best friend. Harry was scanning the pitch, the stands, the group of faces swarming around them. The smile on his face slowly faded and with each passing moment, the light in his eyes dimmed. Ron looked questioningly at him, but Harry refused to look at Ron, and Ron noticed Harry force a laugh for Seamus. Then it hit him. Hermione. Where was Hermione? The hand that had managed to find Luna's loosened its grasp and he twisted to look around, but it was all in vain. Luna, also noticing the missing bushy head rose on her toes and looked around over the heads of the students.

The crowd carried them along. Hermione was absent, and all the while Harry kept a strained smile on his features. All of the euphoria of winning, and all of the excitement, had left him. They weren't put down until they had gotten to the portrait hole. Before the two of them were pushed inside Ron managed to mutter, "She didn't miss it."

Within moments the party was already in full swing. Students were dancing wildly, talking animatedly and, in the case of the seventh years, ingesting copious amounts of alcohol (courtesy of Seamus Finnegan) whilst the snitch zoomed happily around the common room. Hermione wasn't in sight. It was a half hearted Harry at the party. Finally, after having taken his fill of firewhiskey, he made his way over to Ron and Luna. Ron looked up at him as Harry patted him on the back.

"You're going up now?"

"Yeah, I'm a bit tried."

Ron looked around the room, noting the missing Head Girl, nodded and said, "D'you want me to-"

"No,"

"Right. Get some rest, mate."

"Yeah."

Harry turned to go, but Ron called him back. "I'm sure she had a good reason."

Harry only nodded at this and said goodnight to Luna. He waved away the outbursts of dismay that followed him up the stairs and managed to avoid several drunken girl's advances before stepping into the boys dorms with a tired sigh. Then he froze at the sight that greeted him on his bed. He sighed heavily, and turned to shut the door. He brushed past her on his way to his trunk without even a look of acknowledgment.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he shrugged out of his quidditch robes and tossed them lazily into the trunk.

"I need to talk to you," Hermione said as she watched him sit on Ron's bed and pull off his boots.

Harry didn't even bother to look at her as he pulled on a shirt and began to button it up. "Where were you?" he asked

"You actually think that I missed your game? I saw it Harry. I saw the whole thing."

With a loud snap, his trunk slammed shut.

"With your eyes shut, right?"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Hermione said with her arms folded over her chest.

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed them wearily before placing them back on. She looked lovely in the moonlight. He mentally shook his head and walked to the door and pulled it open for her.

"Look, I'm tired. Why don't you go downstairs, have fun, and leave me alone."

"You're acting like a child, Harry," Hermione said firmly.

Harry only shrugged, shut the door and stalked towards her. She took a step back, but needn't have for he only moved to light his lamp.

"Harry, I was there. I saw everything. I saw Ron block every shot and you soar around the pitch after you caught the snitch. I saw them carry you all the way here. And I saw you look for me."

Harry looked at her in confusion. His anger ebbed away. "Then why didn't I see you?"

"Because something happened."

Harry pulled aside his blanket and placed his wand on his bedside table.

"Something important, eh?" he said bitterly and not bothering to look at her.

"Something that was out of my control," she answered and Harry turned to look at her expectantly, but she didn't say anything more.

"Right. Well it was nice talking. G'night." And with that he got into bed and shut the curtains.

With a sigh, Hermione walked to his bed and pulled them aside. "I wanted to apologize, Harry."

Harry lay on his bed with his arms behind his head. His eyes trained to the ceiling. "For what?" he said indifferently.

"For shouting."

"Ah."

Hermione's brow furrowed at his answer and after a few moments he turned his head to look at her. "Is that it then? Well, apology accepted. Now if you don't mind," Harry sat up and placed a hand on the curtain, making to pull them around once more, but Hermione's hand stayed his.

He looked at her standing over him, the moon reflecting off of her fair skin. Her hair, untamed with tendrils teasing her stern features. Her scent filling him, calling him, reaching for his touch.

"Go away, Hermione," he said with gritted teeth.

"I want to talk to you, Harry."

Something snapped inside him.

He sat up and with a swift and with a sudden fluid movement, he had pushed the curtains aside and was now on his feet, towering over her.

"You want to talk. Okay, let's talk then. But what _will _be talk about, Hermione?" she took a step back from him as he continued, "Oh, I know, why don't we continue where we left off? That seems like a good start, don't you think?"

"Harry-" said with a nervous smile.

"No, Hermione. Humour me. Give me your answer. You did come here to talk, right? So we're gonna do just that," he said in a voice that had lowered to a dangerous tone.

Hermione slowly back away from his advancing steps. "This hardly seems the time to-"

"Oh, I think this is the perfect time."

The full moon now fell on them both casting their contrasting forms in its warm glow.

"Can't this wait until-"

"No. Hermione. It's a simple answer to a simple question. All I need is a yes, or no. Just give me that. That's all I want. Yes. Or no?"

Hermione looked at him as if he had completely lost his mind. She took a deep breath. She opened her mouth. She closed it. Her hand raised to tangle itself in her hair as she frantically began to pace from one bed to another. Her eyes looked around the room in frustration, as if she was looking for some means of escape though Harry had in fact barred her from the only door with his hands crossed over his chest. He held his breath.

_Say yes. _

Suddenly, Hermione stopped in her tracks and turned to face him, teary eyed and breathless.

"It wasn't supposed to be this way!" she shouted, surprising him. "I had everything ordered, everything planned! We were supposed to be friends, destroy Voldemort, graduate, get jobs, get a flat," her voice faltered slightly and she swallowed before gathering herself and continued with a shrill and desperate, "None of this was supposed to happen!"

"But it did, Hermione! This isn't some list that you can check off when things go your way. It's life. Things happen. Things change!"

"But I don't want it to change! I want everything to be back they way they were. Things were fine the way they were!"

"So you'd rather have us live deaf and blind? You can't just ignore this, Hermione. You're smarter than that. You can't just wait for it to go away, because it won't. I. Won't."

"Don't you think I know that! Do you think that I forgot everything we've done?" she paused to take a shaking breath. "I am ashamed, Harry. I'm ashamed of the way I acted. The way I practically threw myself at you. I'm ashamed at the fact that even though I know what I want, I'm still a coward. I'm still running away. I'm ashamed that I'm the one holding you back."

Harry blinked at her answer, but he didn't dare speak in fear that all of this was just one horrible dream and he would awaken alone in his bed with the party still raging downstairs and Hermione no where in sight. So he held his tongue and allowed her to finish, and what she said surprised him even more.

"And even knowing all of this, knowing all of the change that this could bring," she swallowed and her voice quieted, "I'm ashamed of myself, Harry because despite everything… I still want you… I still care for you."

There was a moment of painful silence in which she silently willed him to say something. Peals of laughter burst from behind the shut door mingled with strange animal sounds. They ignored these distractions and Harry took a step towards her.

"Okay," he began in a shaky, quiet voice, "first of all, you didn't throw yourself at me. If you remember correctly, I'm the one who kissed you. Second, you're not a coward and you're not holding me back because there's no one else I want. And third, can I kiss you?"

It's funny how a single word can change so much. A single word can turn someone's world upside down. Everything that was planned, everything that was carefully thought out, written down, checked and double checked could be completely erased with a single decision. A single word.

"Yes."

And he didn't waste a moment to go her, take her in his arms and drown himself in the sweet, aching taste of her lips. She rose on her toes and wrapped her arms around him; running her fingers through his hair as he deepened the kiss. Silent tears trailed down her cheeks and Harry kissed them away tenderly before taking her lips once more. She fitted her body to his, and a desperate whimper escaped from her throat.

No holding back.

No interruptions.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"I'm so sorry, Harry."

"Shh, love."

Her hands raced over him as if this moment was their last. Her fingers fumbled over the buttons of his shirt until with a firm tug she managed to tear it open and pull it off of him.

All the while he pulled her to his bed.

He gently pushed her robes off her and they fell to the ground with a whisper soon followed by other articles of clothing. She gasped against his mouth at the icy touch of his hands on her skin and she pushed him onto the bed, her lips feasting upon his with a desperate hunger.

He pulled himself up along the bed, and with her arms around him she followed in pursuit, never breaking contact. Her soft hands ignited blazing fires within him, but he wanted to feel more. He needed to hear more. Heart racing, body throbbing for release, he broke away from her. Their breath came out in deep shuddering gasps.

"Tell me you want me," his voice breathless and hoarse, sounded foreign to him.

"I want you," she whispered fiercely.

He kissed her again and she melted into him as he laid her on the bed and traced his lips up the smooth column of her neck.

"Tell me you need me," his lips brushed against her ear.

"I need you, Harry."

A hint of a smile graced his lips and he almost laughed aloud in elation. Taking his head in her hands, she pulled him back down to her and captured his lips in a tantalizing kiss. With tremendous effort he wrenched himself away from her protesting grasp, braced his hands on either side of her and held himself up with his arms.

Looking into her eyes, his heart in his throat, their pulses racing, in a quiet hopeful voice he asked the one painful question that had been writhing inside of him since that fateful night in the common room.

"Do you love me?"

And in that moment she saw both Harry the lonely, frightened boy he was then and the head strong, tender hearted young man he was now, and she smiled. And with that single gesture all of the breath was ripped from him with a sudden heave and he felt weak with the wonder of it all, for he knew her answer.

"Always."

He was hers.

Harry murmured her name against her skin and all coherent thought left them. He took only a minute to take a hold of his wand, and with an impatient flick the curtains swished shut, giving them their privacy. She allowed him to mutter the silencing charm before pulling the wand out of his grasp, dragging him back down to her and sending him hurtling over the threshold and into the gardens of nirvana where he shouted to the skies, and cried out in triumph again and again:

_She loves me. _

_She _loves _me. _

_She loves _me.

Hours later with the moon now high in the sky and their bodies slick with sweat, she arched against him with eyes shut in pure ecstasy. Neither paid any heed to the sleepy mumbled 'goodnights' of the returning dorm mates.

Harry loved everything about her. He loved her name, her voice, her thoughts, her eyes, her hair, her lips, her toes, her tears, her smile. He loved it when her eyebrows would furrow in concentration. He loved how her lips would compress into a line when she was cross. He loved it when she moaned his name the moment he pulled out of her with excruciating slowness. He loved the small sounds she made as his lips, slowly making its way down the length of her body, caressed her neck, the hollow in her throat, her abdomen. When she moved over him, he didn't hesitate to profess his love for her. And when the moments of completeness arose, he cried out his love and gave himself to her entirely, never holding back, and knowing that he was utterly loosing himself with each passing minute.

The moon began to fade as the sky took on a rosy hue. Snowflakes drifted and fell, blanketing the ground and dusting the window panes. Harry pulled the covers over Hermione who kissed his shoulder tenderly. Her hair spilled over the pillow and she lay on her side, with her face buried against his neck and eyes shut in content. She lay her hand on his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns along his collar bone and up his shoulder. She whispered words that made him smile sleepily and upon his answer she laughed before placing a kiss on his neck. Harry lay on his back with one arm wrapped around her and his hand resting on her back. He had his other arm circled around her waist, holding her small form close to him. He turned his head to place a soft kiss on her forehead, and then rested against the pillow once more. Overcome with fatigue he shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep.


	11. Breakfast

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world does not belong to me. The End.

A/N: Wow, I'm actually getting the hang of updating sooner than I used to. It's hurting my much needed time that should be spent on school, but hey. Fun first, right? Oh, I'm so gonna die come mid-terms. Thanks ever so much for the great reviews. You're all awsome. A couple more and I'll hit the 100 point. Then I'll die a happy woman. So tell me what you think. In plain english: more reviews please. Enjoy.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes. He didn't need to see in order to know that he wasn't alone, but perfect vision wouldn't hurt. He automatically leaned over to fumble around his bedside table for his glasses. Nothing. Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. They were always on his bedside table. Where could they be? He sat up and blinked at the curtains. Hermione continued to slumber away; completely unconscious of his predicament, and Harry dared not wake her. He wanted to see her first. But sight came with glasses, which were not where they were supposed to be. Where did he put them? He guessed that they must have accidentally dropped from Hermione's fingers. Suddenly overcome with giddiness Harry whispered with a big grin on his face, "Hermione's fingers…"

The sheet fell to his waist as he leaned over the bed and felt around the floor. His hair fell over his eyes, and his fingers brushed against a long and stiff object. Success!He grasped the glasses, sat up and put them on. Immediately his world, but more importantly the woman in his bed, came into focus. She lay on her back with her cheek pressed to the pillow. One arm lay on the spot where he had lain and the other rested along her stomach. Her chest rose and fell as she slumbered away. Her eyelashes created half moon shadows and her tangled hair spilled over the pillow. She was lovely.

Harry gently lifted her arm so he could lie at her side once again and he brushed his lips against her knuckles. He watched her sleep, amazed that this moment had finally come. He was held spellbound by her sleeping form and reveled in the quiet moment where he wondered what he had possibly done to deserve this. To deserve her. Harry watched her awaken.

Hermione's eyes slowly fluttered open and he found himself lost in their dark depths flecked with gold. She smiled at him and he raised a hand to brush away strands of hair from her face. He ran his knuckles gently along the curve of her cheek and she blinked sleepily at him. A bright smile began to light her features.

"Morning, beautiful," he said with a grin, and a sudden searing pain tore through his head.

He cried out in blind agony, his body thrashing and he was mildly aware of Hermione shouting his name in alarm with her hands on his shoulders. He couldn't see her. Harry screwed his eyes shut, screamed himself hoarse and clawed at his scar. The pain was excruciating.

It was a knife tearing through his head and twisting with a savage thrust.

It was a hard, blunt object, endlessly beating and bashing.

Claws tearing at his insides.

Fingers wrenching, and splitting his head in two.

He felt sudden moisture on his forehead and wondered if his scar was bleeding, but that thought was drowned as another wave of pain surfaced, threatening to rip his head apart. Then a voice; a cold, familiar voice dripping with anger, and bubbling with hate, filled his senses.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" it screamed. "I'LL _KILL YOU_!"

Another voice managed to rise from the raging tumult, shrieking desperately, "Stop it! Please! Leave him alone! STOP IT!"

And suddenly it was over. Harry fell against the bed, his body shaking with slight tremors. Hermione's face swam before his eyes as his vision cleared. She was crying, washing his face with her tears.

"I'm sorry. Oh, god, Harry, forgive me. I'm so sorry," she sobbed into his trembling, gasping form

Harry's chest heaved with each struggling intake of breath. His body ached, and skin gleamed with perspiration. She brushed trembling fingers across his forehead and she sat up, pulled him onto her lap and clutched him to her as if invisible hands would suddenly snatch him from her grasp.

Her name escaped from his lips, but she shushed him and held him tighter rocking back and forth. Her fingers brushed over his glistening scar, wiping away the tears that had purged it. She pressed her lips to his forehead and smoothed away his hair with trembling hands.

Harry feebly raised his arm bed to place a comforting hand on her arm. He managed to graze her skin with his fingers before dropping his hand back onto the bed in exhaustion. His eyes shut for a few moments then opened and he trained his gaze to the ceiling.

* * *

"Are you alright?" she whispered hesitantly.

"Yeah," he answered.

They now lay on the bed, Hermione's arms wrapped protectively around him. Her head rested on his chest, listening to his heart now beating steadily. Fresh tears spilled from her eyes and she reached up to capture his lips in a desperate kiss. Coming up for air she said breathlessly, "I thought he was going to kill you."

Harry looked down at her. "You heard him too?"

Hermione's lip trembled as she stroked his cheek. "Oh, Harry," she said. "I've been hearing him for a long time now."

Harry sat up to look at her properly.

"What?" he said.

"It's me," she croaked, "It's always been me and it's all my fault," her voice broke and her words tumbled in between sobs. "I-I've been trying to find a cure. I didn't want you know. I couldn't. And he-he stopped me. He-"

Harry brought her up to him and she collapsed against his chest. He brought a hand to her head and held her as he looked down at her in worry and confusion.

"What? What're you talking about?"

"It's me," she cried. "Voldemort is using me to get to you."

Harry's eyes widened.

_No. _

He grasped her shoulders and pulled her away from him gently so he could look her in the eye.

"He's taken me, Harry," she said, wiping her tears away. "He's using Somnium Gradior. It's not you. It's me. He's taken _me_."

Harry shook his head in denial and his jaw clenched as his eyes spit green fire. "How long has it-"

"Since the end of Christmas break."

"I'll kill him," he said viciously.

"Harry-"

"We'll find a way out of this, Hermione," he said, kissing her forehead. "I'll make him go away. I'll protect you."

She looked up at him with eyes wet with tears.

"But who will protect you?" she said.

Harry's eyes softened as he looked down at her and he pulled her to his chest saying, "It's my fault. He's hurt you and it's my fault."

"No. No it's not, don't say that."

"I'm sorry, Hermione. It's my fault."

"Stop it."

She grasped his head in her hands, tears poured down her face and she kissed him.

"God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he murmured against her lips and she clung to him and pressed herself against him, never letting go.

Hermione wanted to drown herself in him. She wanted to stay in his arms and have him kiss her. She wanted to slip inside of him, wrap herself around him and drown in his blood. Their kisses grew more urgent, his whispers of apology, more frantic. They clawed at each other and she scrambled onto his lap, as if she wanted to climb into him. Harry lifted her waist and fitted himself against her. She wrapped her arms around him, one arm rising to tangle her hand in his hair, and the other securely around his back.

Harry whispered his apology fervently as he filled her. He moaned his apology when she moved frantically against him. And when she called his name, he cried out his apology, burying his head in her shoulder.

* * *

"We should go to Madame Pomfrey," Hermione said long after as they lay with him holding her back against his chest. She held onto his arms and felt his lips on her shoulder.

"And say what? After waking from hours of great vigorous sex, Voldemort decided to rip my head in two?"

Hermione swatted his arm. "This isn't funny, Harry."

"But if we can't laugh about our troubles, life would be no fun," he said burying his nose in her hair, shutting his eyes and inhaling her scent.

Hermione gave a half smile. "Since when have you become so clever?"

"Since I met you," he answered simply.

Hermione swallowed as she looked at a spot in the curtains. After a moment of silence she said, "Maybe we should stop. If you don't touch me, he won't hurt you," she said.

Harry raised his head to look at her. Then in a swift movement, he rose over her, pinned her to the bed, and braced his arms on either side of her, "Oh, no you don't," he said. "You're not making a martyr of yourself. That's my job."

"Harry, I'm not-"

He silenced her with a kiss. Then upon discovering that oxygen was in fact needed to live he reluctantly broke away, looked down at her flushed features, and pressed himself against her.

"None of that. You'll have me, and I'm not letting you go. We're going to figure a way out of this, let Ron out of the dark and maybe, if we have time, tell Dumbledore."

She opened her mouth to retort, but her words were lost in the sharp gasp she took when Harry began to move his hips tantalizingly against her. She shut her eyes as he traced kisses along her neck, whispering, "But first," His hand traveled down the length of her body, and he smiled against her skin at the sound of another gasp escaping her lips. "But first," he repeated in a heated whisper, "Breakfast."

Her hands froze in its task of disheveling his hair.

"Breakfast?"

"Mmm," he answered as he ravished her neck, eliciting shivers from her.

She ignored, with much effort, the effects that his fingers, his lips, and the teasing motions of his body had on her.

"Is that all I am to you, Mr. Potter? Breakfast?"

"Among other things," he murmured.

Her lips parted slightly as she looked at him, then without so much as a by your leave, she pushed him off of her with her hips and had him flat on the bed. Hermione moved over him and a curtain of hair fell around him as she leaned down and looked at him with a wicked gleam in her eye. Her hands trapped his, and held them spread over the bed. She moved suggestively against him and this time it was Harry's turn to shut his eyes briefly as he uttered a guttural moan.

Oh, he had taught her well.

Her lips grazed against his own parted ones as she spoke, "Well, then I guess a considerable serving is in order."

He raised his head up off the pillow to kiss her, but she pulled away ever so slightly. With a breathless moan, her name rolled off his tongue in protest but she only smiled and at a slow deliberate motion, he shut his eyes and sucked in a breath.

_Bloody hell. _

Yes. His Hermione had always been a fast learner.

"Will there be seconds?" she purred against his lips.

"Yes," he breathed before claiming his prize and kissing her.

When his tongue slid along her bottom lip, she released him and his hands immediately rose to cup her face as he deepened the kiss.

They were far too busy with each other to hear the muffled footsteps pounding up the stairs. So naturally it came as a surprise to not only Harry and Hermione but also to Seamus as he barged into the room, walked up to Harry's bed, and threw open the curtains.

"Oy, Harry! We're going for a drink at-" the words died in Seamus' throat and he blinked.

Harry and Hermione had no time to react. The three of them froze and stared at each other for a few seconds. Seamus' eyes bulged out of their sockets as he got an eyeful of a Hermione he had never dreamed of seeing.

Instantly, Hermione let out a fearful squeak as she attempted to bury herself in the sheets, and the moment was gone. Seamus' face flamed as Harry scrambled to get a sheet around her. Seamus jumped away, turned his head in the other direction and held an arm up between him and the bed.

"Oh! Oh Christ! Sorry!"

Hermione held the sheet around herself tightly, her cheeks burning.

"H-Hello, Seamus," she said crouching behind Harry's broad shoulders.

"_Goodbye, _Seamus," Harry said firmly.

"Er, Hermione," Seamus stammered, his eyes looking at anything but the familiar female wrapped in only a sheet sitting timidly before him, "I-I never wanted to see- I mean, I didn't mean to- that is, I never knew that-" Seamus turned back at the sound of his name and someone strode into the room.

"What's taking so long, Seamus? It's not that hard to get the bloke u-oh… er…hello."

Dean looked as if he wished he was anywhere but in the boys' dorm.

Seamus looked as if he could kiss Dean for appearing.

"Dean! Harry, Dean wanted to go for a couple of Butterbeers. Er, right Dean?"

Hermione dared not look at the two boys she had grown up with and befriended. She pulled the sheet tight around her. Dean shifted form one foot to the other. His eyes widened at the sight of a nearly naked Hermione, but the deadly look Harry shot at him sent his gaze to the window.

"W-Well, yeah. We, er, just wanted to-"

"Well I don't think I'll be joining you guys today," Harry said.

Hermione shrank behind him, but it was all in vain.

"Oh, yeah, well, of course, Harry."

The sound of footsteps rushing up the stairs echoed through the open door.

"What, in the name of God, is taking you all so bleeding long?" Ron's voice rang clearly, and Seamus visibly winced as Ron continued, "Neville and I've been waiting for-"

"Hermione?" Neville's quiet voice sounded from behind Ron's towering figure filling the doorway and soon the room was crowded.

All six of them froze in their place.

Hermione was mortified and the sheet threatened to cut off her circulation. "Hello, Ron," she said in a quiet voice.

Well, they did want to tell him everything. She just didn't imagine that 'everything' entitled to Ron seeing them half naked, wrapped in a sheet in Harry's bed. She also didn't think that 'everything' needed an audience, but Ginny always said that they all needed more spice in their lives. And this situation added definite spice.

Ginny would be proud.

Hermione wanted to spontaneously combust.

And not in the good way.

Not a word was said. The silence was deafening. No one moved. Neville cringed, expecting an explosion to come from the startled red head any minute now.

"I've got to admit," Ron said, breaking the heavy silence that hung over them all. "It is a bit unsettling to see the two of you like this."

"Ron-" Harry began.

Ron cut him off, "But I reckon, that it's for the best and about bloody time too. I mean, its taken ages for you two to go at it like crazed weasels."

Hermione let out a breath she never knew she held, and her face lit up.

Disregarding the rather uncouth way he had given them his blessing, she tossed caution to the wind, got up and threw herself at him in a warm hug. Ron's arms immediately went around her, partially for the sake of happiness and also partially for the sake of keeping her modesty from tumbling to the floor in her haste. But Hermione, ever the perfectionist had been careful to knot the sheet around herself. She clung to her best friend and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered, teary eyed and Ron nodded in answer and let her down, smiling.

Harry wrapped his blanket around his waist and got up, clapping Ron on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Ron."

Ron shrugged. "Just happy to help. And, oy! You three!" he said to Seamus, Dean and Neville as he stepped in front of Hermione, attempting to hide her from view. "Wait outside. This isn't a show; we'll be out in a bit."

With the door closed behind them, Ron turned back to his best friends with a bright smile. "Get dressed, the two of you. As much as you'd love to shag each other until the wee hours of the morning, I for one am thirsty and Filch is off chasing an invisible cat."

Ron walked to the door, opened it and stepped outside. Hermione began gathering her articles of clothing strewn by the bed.

"Oh, and Harry, Hermione? Five minutes."

And he shut the door.

Harry turned to Hermione and pointed at the closed door.

"Did he just..?" he asked.

The sheet dropped to the floor.

She was feeling especially daring today.

"You heard the man. Five minutes."

* * *

Five minutes turned out to be two hours.

After the surprise at the boy's dormitory Seamus, Dean and Neville had climbed out of the portrait hole just moments before Ron, looking slightly shaken and amused.

"Where's Harry and Hermione?" Ginny had asked pushing herself up off the ground beside Luna.

Ron had only grinned at her and took Luna's hand. "They'll be a few hours."

Ginny had looked incredulously at her brother and shouted, "A few hou- oh." Her eyes brightened and she looked like she was going to laugh aloud. "Oh!"

"Yeah, they know where we'll be. C'mon."

* * *

And so two hours later, hand in hand Harry and Hermione entered the Three Broomsticks with much catcalling and whistles from a certain group of people at a single table.

"I want details later," Ginny managed to whisper as Hermione took a seat beside her.

Harry passed her a Butterbeer and he gave Ron a look that said he wanted to talk to him.

"Here?" Ron muttered while the others' attentions were settled elsewhere.

"No. Room of Requirement. We'll meet Hermione there later."

Ron nodded and Madame Rosemeta approached their table with two platters of food. Harry and Hermione had missed both breakfast and lunch after all, and so it was safe to say that after the events of this morning they were practically famished.

Soon they were all laughing and talking without a care in the world. Seamus and Hermione managed to get over the slight awkwardness that hung between them. Harry ordered them a round of firewhiskeys, and much later, with her eyes trained to a distant corner of the room Ginny said, "I'll see you all later." She got up and headed to the door.

Hermione watched Ginny's lips move as she uttered a scathing remark at Draco Malfoy who held the door open for her with a sneer. Her attention was pulled back to the group when Dean offered her a glass of firewhiskey, saying that she hadn't touched one yet.

Before Hermione could utter a refusal Harry said with a twinkle in his eye, "She doesn't drink firewhiskey, Dean." his eyes never left hers as he continued with a knowing smile, "Not after breakfast."


	12. Revelations

DISCLAIMER: anyone you don't recognize belongs to yours truly while everything else is owned by the lovely and ingenious Ms. Rowling.

WARNING: suggestive rape is in the first bit. It's not graphic. It's just a big topic in this first bit of the chapter involving the kidnapped girls. Sorry if anyone is offended.

A/N: And they are finally together. Now we can all heave one big sigh. But will it last? Hmm, one way to find out. Thanks ever so much for the great reviews. They completely made my days of stressful studying for exams so much better. Got one more to go and I'm done school. Strange how I managed to get another chapter out, but hey, it's fun and the feedback you all give is just so completely awesome. Now that the two love birds are together we can actually take a look into the plot. So it's back to Petra and friends. If anyone is offended by this first bit I offer my sincere apologies. And sorry as well if the last two chapters were a bit graphic..ish. Well on with the story.

* * *

The first time he took her, she screamed herself hoarse. She had earned many scrapes and bruises but had managed to give some in return. When he threw her back into the dim lit room they held her through the sobs that wrecked her body and left her shaking. When he came a second time, she had earned her first black eye and he had lost a finger. The third time sent her screams echoing around the marble halls for help that would never come. The fifth time he took her she had almost escaped. It was then that she had her first taste of the Cruciatus curse. The eighth time brought her back into the dim lit room, semi conscious, every inch of her body aching. By the twelfth time she had stopped fighting. The fifteenth time had stopped her screaming. On the night of the twentieth time he took her and tossed her back into the candle lit room with a gleeful " 'appy anniversary, pet.", she no longer responded to their whispers of comfort, their tears, or their arms. She only lay on the floor, eyes wide open, listless, silent.

The girl named Petra approached her and kneeled. "Orla?" she said gently. "Orla, love, you have to eat." Her statement was answered with Orla's blank stare.

"She's not going to eat. She's not going to speak. That wanker finally broke her," Emma said in a hard voice, though her eyes were focused worriedly on the silent Ravenclaw.

"She has to eat. Orla, you have to eat. Don't do this, Orla. You have to eat." Met with no response, Petra took the older girl's head in her hands and shouted, "Damn it, Orla! Eat the sodding food or you'll die!"

"Then let me die," she answered steadily in a quiet voice.

Petra froze. "You don't mean that."

"What did she say?" Emma asked, but they ignored her.

"Just let me be, Petra."

"I absolutely will not."

"What did she say?" Emma repeated from her post against the wall.

"There's no point in any of this, Petra. I'm going to die anyway, and if that sodding bastard won't kill me first than You-Know-Who will."

"Will you two shut up for a moment and tell me what's going on?" Emma said.

"No one is going to die, Orla. They'll come and get us. I know you're hurting but-"

"Oh what the hell do you know about pain!" Orla shouted, startling Petra, Emma and the silent girl in the corner. She winced as she pushed herself up with her arms and looked Petra in the eye. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this," she continued. Her voice was tinged with desperation. "It was supposed to be romantic and- and wonderful and- I was supposed to be in love!" Orla looked at her and continued in a voice that reeked with barely contained rage, "Every. Night. Petra. He takes me _every fucking night,_" she spat viciously, her eyes blazing.

Emma swallowed.

Petra just looked at Orla who trembled violently under their stares. Despite the desperation and fury in her voice, Orla's eyes welled up in tears and they spilled over her bruised features.

"I want it to end," she whispered. "I want it all to stop."

Emma blinked back her own tears and continued to watch the girl who had so drastically changed.

"No one is going to come, Petra," Orla continued and sank back onto the floor. "We're alone."

She ignored the fire that spread a dull ache in her injured arm and closed her eyes. They remained closed when she felt arms wrap around her. They stayed shut when scuffling sounds reached her ears. Her eyes stayed closed when the smell of warm soup reached her nostrils and sent pangs to her stomach. Orla didn't even open them when she felt a spoon by her closed mouth, or even when she gratefully swallowed the substance spreading warmth through her body. Her eyes remained shut tight even when the helpless tears began to fall.

* * *

"Did you see Ginny?" Neville asked and Hermione shook her head.

Ron looked over the heads of the customers that packed Honey Dukes. "She was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago," he said.

"I'm sure she's fine, Ron. She must have lost track of time," Harry said.

"Yeah, well we're not exactly supposed to be here so loosing track of time isn't really and option is it?" Dean said popping a red bean into his mouth and making a face.

Seamus fished into Dean's bag and grabbed a fistful of beans. He offered some to Hermione who shook her head. She was busy eyeing the door. She rose on her toes and a sudden smile graced her lips. Seamus looked at her; whatever she had seen must have been interesting. He turned in the direction of her gaze when Hermione suddenly spoke up, "Look there she is."

Cheeks flushed, Ginny breathlessly rushed over to the group. She absentmindedly glanced behind her.

"Go on, buy a bag we'll wait here. It's not like we have to be anywhere right?"

Ginny looked over at Ron who was eyeing her and sighed. "I'm sorry. I saw something I liked and I lost track of time." She ignored Hermione's watchful eye.

"Yeah, well let's get going."

Moments later they were in the tunnel making their way back to Hogwarts. Hermione fell into step beside Ginny. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yeah, I think I'll get it at the next Hogsmead trip."

Hermione pursed her lips at this answer and looked at the youngest Weasley. "So how long has this been going on?"

Ginny looked at Hermione questioningly. "I believe you've been sneaking out since first year Miss Head Girl."

Hermione flushed and fiddled with her badge before lifting her chin up at the taller girl. Ginny noted the strange glint in her eye and grew wary.

"Yes, but you've been sneaking around quite a lot this term."

Ginny laughed, "What, you're not going to turn me in, are you?"

They stepped out into the empty corridor.

"Of course not," Hermione said nonchalantly and she reached up to pick something in Ginny hair. Ginny looked at the piece of hay that Hermione briefly glanced at before tossing it away. "If you want to talk about it, I'll be my dormitory," she said gently with a hand on her arm before she waved goodbye to everyone and walked away.

Ginny stood frozen to the spot, blinking.

_She knows. _

Ginny was on her in a flash. "You-You're not angry?"

"Of course not, why in the world would you think that?"

"Well, you're not really on good terms with Draco."

They climbed through the portrait hole and headed up the stairs.

"Ginny, I'm not Harry or Ron."

"Oh, god, Ron."

"You're going to have to tell him," Hermione said as she closed the door behind her and sat on her bed.

"Are you mad? He'll murder him. Besides, it's none of his business." Ginny took a seat beside Hermione and crossed her arms over her chest.

"That is the truth, but I still think that he has the right to know. It would be better for the relationship," Hermione said.

Ginny only looked at her then she suddenly threw her head back and uttered a bitter laugh. "Relationship. Me and Malfoy. Oh god, what have I gotten myself into."

"Well it is a relationship isn't it?"

"To be totally honest, I'm not quite sure," Ginny said looking at her hands. Her ears were tinged with red and her cheeks flushed.

"Whatever to do you mean by that?"

Ginny sighed and pushed her hair over her shoulder. "It's…complicated."

Hermione only stared at her open mouthed then she placed a hand on her arm saying, "Ginny. Do you like him?"

"I…" her voice faltered and she smoothed her hands over her robes. "I… I like the way he looks at me. I like how his voice changes when we're completely alone. I…" she her eyes wandered around the room and her face soon came to grow almost as red as her hair. "Yes, I…I think I do…like…Draco Malfoy. Oh, god. Draco Malfoy. Ginny Weasley likes Draco Malfoy." Ginny looked at Hermione and almost said laughingly, "My family's going to disown me."

Hermione wrapped her arms around her. "Oh, Ginny. They'll do no such thing. It will just take them some time to get used to the idea."

"And Fred and George? Ron?"

Hermione hesitated before saying, "It will take a considerable amount of time."

Ginny buried her face in Hermione's shoulder with a groan.

"But that's not what counts," Hermione said. "Does he make you happy?"

Ginny let go of her and grinned.

"Ecstatic."

"Well then, there's your answer. No need for you two to be sneaking around or hiding in any broom closets."

Ginny giggled. "But that's the fun part."

Hermione laughed. "You are impossible."

"You won't tell Ron or Harry until I'm ready, will you?"

"You're secret is safe with me. I promise you that."

Ginny nodded and thanked her with a hug.

"So how long has this been going on exactly?"

"Oh, about three months."

"You're serious?"

"Completely."

"You've been carrying this secret affair for three months without managing to have anyone catch on?"

"Trust me dear, if by some miracle you hadn't sniffed us out, I would have carried this on for much longer."

"Enjoying every minute of course."

"Naturally."

Hermione shook her head in amazement. "How did it happen?" she asked.

"I don't know. It just did. I wasn't planning it or anything. I wasn't even expecting it. He was just everywhere and one thing led to another and…" Ginny trailed off.

"Now you're a couple." Hermione still couldn't believe that they were talking about Draco Malfoy of all people.

Ginny flushed. "I wouldn't really go so far as to call it that."

"So what would you call it?" Hermione asked. When Ginny didn't answer her she said, "Gin, please don't tell me this is just physical."

"And what's wrong with that?" Ginny said but before Hermione could answer she continued, "No. No it's…more than that," she sighed. "I'm just not sure what to call it just yet."

Hermione nodded but didn't say a word.

Wanting to cast off all seriousness Ginny suddenly turned to face her friend and said, "So, now that we've covered my sex life, why don't we chat about yours?"

"You don't honestly expect me to divulge in any of that, do you?" Hermione said.

Ginny only grinned at her wickedly. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

Hermione laughed and stood up. "You are absolutely horrible, Ginny Weasley."

"Oh come on, Hermione. You can't seriously tell me he's not a tiger in the sack."

"A tiger in the-What?"

Ginny burst into a fit of giggles. "You two were two hours late this morning. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy every second of it."

"Why does this conversation seem so familiar?" Hermione said while she rummaged in her trunk for her books.

"Alright fine. Be horrible and leave me in the dark," Ginny said crossing her arms.

"Thank you, I will." Hermione placed rolls of parchment into her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

"Not even one little-"

"No, Ginny."

Ginny laughed. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"I've got some work to do. I'll see you later. Oh, and Ginny? If you're going to tell him, make up your mind to do so before he finds out the hard way."

The hilarity fell from Ginny's features and she nodded.

When Hermione stepped through the portrait hole she took a deep breath and shut her eyes for a moment. This certainly was a day of revelations. _And they're certainly not going to end just yet. _She waved a hello at Eran Lot as she made her way to the room of requirement recently dubbed her Room of Relaxation. This however was definitely not a moment to relax.

She closed the door behind her and the two boys by the fireplace looked up in her direction. She smiled thinly at them. Hermione only hoped that Ginny wouldn't decide to let Ron know about her current relationship with Draco Malfoy today. Ron's heart probably wouldn't be able to take the shock. He warily eyed the load of books in her arms, probably thinking that this was some meeting about school. But it was far worse.

Hermione sat across from the two boys seated on the floor; a wizard's chess board sat in between them. After the events from this morning Ron thought that nothing would be able to surprise him. Oh how wrong he was. For Ron Weasley was definitely in for many surprises, and how he would take them, Hermione could only guess.

She set the books on the table and placed her bag on the seat. Harry nodded encouragingly at her, and Ron gave her a questioning look.

"So what's this all about then?" Ron asked from his spot on the floor.

"You wanna sit down, mate?" Harry asked apprehensively.

"No, I'm good here. What's going on?"

"Ron?" Hermione said tentatively. Ron looked up at her expectantly. "There's something you should know."


	13. Telling Ron

DISCLAIMER: Do I still have to make one?

A/N: I've received many reviews asking what 'big news' Ron is going to hear. I thought I was much clearer in the chapters and I apologize for the confusion. The BIG NEWS is Hermione's madness. So Ron has been finally told and here's his reaction.

As always all of your reviews are encouraging and wonderful and I thank you all. But first: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Consider this as my belated Christmas gift and my not quite New Year present. Hope everyone is having some awesome holiday times. And I also hope that this chapter is alright. Enjoy.

* * *

Well. He was certainly taking it well. As well as one can expect anyway. He wasn't shouting. He wasn't screaming. Actually he wasn't even talking. He just sat there and stared. Ron opened his mouth a few times and it was in those moments that Harry felt himself tense, but Ron only shut his mouth and continued to look at Hermione. Harry looked at her and wondered how she was taking Ron's reaction, but she too said not a word, waiting with baited breath and returning Ron's unmoving stare. Harry's hands itched to do something but he dared not move.

The room was wreathed with silence for what seemed to Harry ages. Then in a flurry of movement, Ron suddenly jumped to his feet, his eyes never leaving Hermione, and he blinked and walked out of the room. The sound of the door shutting roughly behind him made Hermione jump and she looked down at her hands. Harry stared incredulously at the shut door, not believing what Ron had just done. He turned to Hermione but was just as surprised to see her with her eyes closed, her mouth formed into a thin line, and her hands neatly folded on her lap as if she was expecting the reaction Ron had given them. He noted that Hermione looked as if she knew exactly what was going to happen next. Not able to keep still any longer, Harry stood abruptly but Hermione raised a hand and he paused. With her other hand she turned to the door, raised her wand and whispered a spell, and what looked to be a bubble emanated from her wand. It sped through the closed door, encasing whoever stood behind it in a sound proofed bubble.

Harry's shoulders sagged. He didn't have to hear Ron's shattering roar of fury, and the bubble made sure of that. The door suddenly burst open to reveal an enraged Ron, face as fiery as his flaming hair, pushing his way through the bubble, marching into the room, and slamming the door shut behind him. His eyes, mirroring the look of a frightened child, focused on Hermione and pleaded for her to tell him that this was just one stupid, horrible joke concocted out of extreme boredom and a random bout of nastiness. His name managed to quiver from Hermione's throat but Ron cut her off as he swiftly made his way to Hermione, who stood to meet him, and wrapped his arms around her in a fierce hug.

"He's not taking you away. He can't do that. We won't sodding let him!" he said ferociously as he clung to her.

Harry slowly sank back onto the sofa and averted his eyes from the pair. _It's my fault. It's all my fault. _He thought to himself over and over again, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his head in his hands.

Ron clung to Hermione as if she would melt away without warning and he shook his head sternly as he said, "No. No, we won't- you can't be- this isn't…No."

Then just as suddenly as he burst into the room, he let go of Hermione and wheeled towards his best friend on the couch. "Harry, you sodding idiot!" he shouted. "Look what you've done!" he jerked over to Harry, grabbed a fistful of his robes and pulled him towards him roughly. "LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE!" he roared.

Harry only stared unblinkingly back at Ron, as if he deserved everything. Horrified, Hermione raced over to them and tried to pull Ron off of Harry shouting, "Ron stop it! Let go of him! Stop!"

With a final tug she managed to convince Ron to let him go, but Harry looked up at them dejectedly. "No, Hermione. He's right-"

"No he most certainly is not!"

Ron turned to Hermione, eyes wild with grief. "You're going to…If we don't find a cure- if we don't find a way you're going to…"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and his face crumbled.

Hermione gripped Ron's arms. "I'm going to die. Just say it Ron. If we don't find a way to stop him, then yes. I-I'm going to die."

"No you fucking won't," Harry said brokenly and he jumped to his feet and scrambled to her. He took her in his arms and pressed his forehead to hers as if trying fuse his thoughts into her. "Don't you say that. You won't. I won't let you. You won't."

"But it could happen, Harry. It could. Everyone dies."

"But not now! Not yet! I just found you! I just- not now," Harry said with a voice tinged with desperation.

Hermione gently pulled herself away from him. "I know. Listen. Let's not talk about death right now, but let's not ignore it. It could happen, but that's if we don't find a way. And we will."

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "Yeah, and McGonagall could be wrong, right?" he said hopefully.

Hermione shook her head sadly. "No, Ron. What we learned in Transfiguration is the absolute truth."

Ron fell onto the couch and ran a trembling hand through his hair. "Right, so. What do we know about Somnium Gradior?"

Hermione glanced at Harry, who nodded to her and smiled encouragingly before taking a seat in the armchair. She went into her bag and pulled out several rolls of parchment.

"Ever since I found out I've been going to the library, researching."

Harry nodded. Everything was making sense now.

_It's all my fault. _

"And what do we know so far? What are the effects?" Ron asked.

Hermione licked her lips. "It starts off subtlety, with voices and shadows only seen and heard by the…victim."

Harry swallowed. "And have you…"

"Yes."

_It's all my fault. _

"Voldemort has complete control over me. He could control my words, my actions. I tried telling Professor Dumbledore-this was before you accident Harry- and I just…couldn't. It then moves on to control through dreams. Once that passes, the voices and shadows should grow into actual people. So think… schizophrenia. I can see and interact with these images but they're only real to me. To everyone else, I'm talking to nothing at all."

"Can they hurt you?" Harry asked.

"I can only hurt myself," Hermione answered.

This was met with silence. Ron looked at Hermione's detailed notes.

**_- Victim loses sense of realism. _**

**_- Victim not able to decipher difference between illusion and reality. (ie. people/actions) _**

He rifled through the pages and the first point on a certain page sent a jolt through him.

**_- Final stage coma. _**

"What's this bollocks?" he said tossing the parchment onto the table.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"This. What you wrote. Final stage equals coma. What's that supposed to mean?"

Harry started at Ron's words and made a grab for the parchment on the table but Hermione scooped it up.

"It means exactly what it says. Professor McGonagall covered the stages, Ron. You should remember them."

"Don't give me that sodding N.E.W.T. lecture. You know I wasn't paying attention. Now what's that mean? Final stage equals coma."

"It means that the final stage…" she swallowed before continuing and avoided Harry's eyes. "that down the road control will be complete and it would too much for my body to handle and I'll fall into a sedative state."

"Of unconsciousness!" Ron shouted.

"Yes. Ron. And… you both know what happens after that…"

Harry wanted to gather her into his arms and never let her go. There was a childish thought hidden in the deep folds of his mind that if he only held her to him then He wouldn't get to her. He wouldn't take her. Nothing could happen to her as long as he held her. Harry sighed. He wished this thought was true. The fact was that even if this thought held any inkling of truth, Hermione would never let him do it. She wouldn't be coddled. She wouldn't just sit there and allow him to encase her in an attempt to shelter her from harm whilst he took all the damage. She would stand and fight and would only back down if Voldemort cut off her limbs, silenced her thoughts and left her deaf, blind and mute. Then again, this was Hermione. Harry knew that she'd somehow find a way to fight back. Knowing all of this however, he still wanted to hold her. If he couldn't do that now then the least he could do was support her, and Harry knew that at the moment that was exactly what she needed. She needed them to stop grieving and help her. _It's all my fault. _He thought as he stood and knelt by the table where Hermione stood.

"What have you got so far?" Harry asked.

Hermione looked gratefully at him and opened a book. "It says here that Voldemort would need a source and a token. Now I think that the girls he's been taking are the source."

Ron leaned forward to scan the book. "But how would he be using them?"

"I'd think it'd be their blood. He probably drains them each time he has to Walk," Harry said.

"But they're so young," Ron whispered not knowing who he was addressing. No one knew what to say to this.

_It's all my fault._

"And the token?"

Hermione fingered the ring that hung on a chain around her neck. Ron looked at her gesture. It took him a moment for him to realize and when he did his eyes widened. Harry too looked rather surprised.

"You don't mean-"

"It's my ring. Voldemort must have managed to get a hold of it when he… took my parents."

"Can't you just take it off?" Harry asked.

In answer, Hermione turned to another book. "It says here that the spell connects me to the source. It's very old magic. This holds me to those girls and keeps Petra, the main source, alive. She's being drained everyday and her magic essence is transferred to this ring. I take it off, I break it and it releases what's hers. She has to be here. I have to give it to her, place it around her neck. Give what's hers back and I can be free. If everything is returned to its rightful place then control can be broken and balance can be restored."

"Okay, so we go find Petra, free her and give her the ring," Harry said.

"It's not that simple." Hermione turned to him, took his hand and said, "You have to kill him, Harry. The book says that if Somnium Gradior is used for wrong purposes then you have to dispose of the partaker. He'll still hold traces of his tools' and the victim's essences in him and you have to set that free."

Harry's jaw clenched and Ron looked at him with a frightened expression in his eyes.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Yeah, I know. It's about time too, I'nit?"

In an attempt to get Harry's mind off the battle Ron asked, "How d'you know this Petra girl is the main source?"

"Because she was the first taken. The first is always the source. That and she most likely has one of the Brother's blood in her since only members of the Order could perform this act."

Ron had a strange look on his face, but before Hermione could address this properly Harry asked, "Wait, so you're saying that one of the members of the Order is Petra's ancestor?"

Hermione nodded. "If she wasn't a descendant then she wouldn't have been taken first."

"Hang on a minute," Ron spoke up and they turned to look at him. "Petra wasn't first."

Now he had Hermione's attention.

"What?"

"Petra wasn't first. They tried to take two girls the first night. They must have decided to take Petra instead, but two girls were taken."

"How do you know this?"

"I talked to Flitwick. He accidentally mentioned it. I can't believe I forgot."

"He said that they took two?"

"Yeah, but they must have found out that Petra was the one because they left the other in the hall, and wiped her memory. Not even Dumbledore could crack it."

Hermione stood and began to pace. "No no. They couldn't have just randomly decided or discovered. This had to be planned and thought out carefully. They had to know who was the one, where she was and when she could be taken. There can only be one…unless…Ron!"

"What?"

"Does Petra have any relatives?"

"What?"

"Relatives! A-a sister, or a cousin or-"

"A sister. Yeah she's got a sister in second year. What are you getting a- oh. _Oh_. Her name is Crista."

_Crista? _Harry thought to himself. That name sounded familiar to him.

Hermione pushed her hair out of her face and quickly wrote the name down. She continued to scribble her findings on paper as she spoke quickly. "Crista. Petra. There's two. That's why they could choose who to take. Both are descendants of the Order. Both have the member's blood in their veins. Both of them could have been the main source but they only needed one. Where is she? We have to talk to her, we have to…" but she trailed off at the sudden look on Harry's face.

"We can't talk to her. She's in the infirmary. I remember hearing Madame Pomfrey talking about her to a student. They sent Crista to St. Mungo's."

"St. Mungo's?" Ron echoed.

"Yeah. Remember Lockhart? She's in the same department."

In that moment her anger towards Voldemort increased tenfold. Hermione looked mortified. "But she was innocent! She's only a child!" she said.

"Nothing can be done, Hermione. It's permanent damage."

Her face set and with a determined gleam in her eyes she shut her book. "We're going to save those girls, and we're going to figure out who's next." Hermione sat on the couch and began to peruse the book.

"But how do we know that he'll even kidnap anyone else?" Ron asked.

"He can only take seven. That's the maximum number. So far from what I've heard from the both of you, he's taken six girls, not counting Petra because she's the main source. He has to take one more. Now there has to be a pattern. There's got to be a reason why he'd choose Emma Dobbs and Orla Quirke over any other third year girl. Everyone, including Petra has some sort of similarity. We have to figure that out."

"And how do we do that?" Harry asked.

"We talk to Ginny," Hermione said. She looked at the lost and confused looks on the boy's faces and sighed. "Listen. She knows the students who are friends of the girls. We can ask them questions through her."

"We'd have to tell her what's going on then," Ron said and he tried to catch her eye.

"I know," she answered quietly.

Harry looked at his friends sadly.

_It's all my fault._

_

* * *

_

She sat alone in the common room waiting for them to return from quidditch practice. Left alone with her thoughts, Hermione stared at the hearth. The golden flames reflected onto her face giving it a warm glow. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes and she angrily blinked them away. She was tired of crying. She was tired of not knowing when or if her mind was truly lost, but at the same time she felt an overwhelming sense of relief. It was as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She wasn't alone anymore. They knew what was happening to her and what could happen to her in the end. They knew it all now and she didn't have to go through this alone.

The relief and the sudden shock or realization of what could actually happen to her surprisingly didn't make her want to break down, crawl into a corner and wait for death's caress. In the beginning, she was numb to it. The knowledge of her death was a shadow that darted in the back of her mind. Now it was thrown at her in such a force that she suddenly and surprisingly drew up against it. Her death would drive Harry to the point of insanity. She knew this and she knew that he could not face the Dark Lord and expect to win if he was consumed by grief and rage. And she would not let Harry die.

Her selfless desire to preserve Harry's life consumed her and the feeling left her trembling with the need to be free. She had to find a cure and doing so would mean the anticipated demise of the Dark Lord and Hermione had no qualms about that decision. She fingered the binding of the book that rested on her lap and she thought of the young girls who were taken.

She thought of Petra.

Hermione had met her on the first week of term. The girl was lost. She was so small. She remembered the girl's big, dark, tilted eyes as she thanked Hermione with a bright smile.

"_How do you like the school so far?" Hermione asked. _

"_Oh it's brilliant! My professors are nice, Peeves is hilarious, and being able to do magic is simply fantastic!" _

_Hermione frowned at the mention of the mischievous poltergeist. "I wouldn't think Peeves is funny at all." _

_Petra flushed as she managed to look contrite. "Well, I think that some of the tricks he plays are a bit…erm…funny." _

"_You've never seen magic before?" Hermione said, wanting to change the topic. _

"_I've only seen a bit from my dad. My mum often tells him to do things the muggle way though. She said it would set a better example for me, but well here I am. I guess it's safe to say that they were both pleasantly surprised to find that I got accepted." _

_Hermione smiled. She knew the feeling. "I'm muggle born myself. Both of my parents are dentists actually. So your mum's right in thinking that knowing about both worlds is useful." _

"_I guess." Petra paused as they came up to Flitwick's room. "Well here's my stop. Thanks again, Hermione." _

"_It's no trouble at all. I'll see you around the common room I guess. It was nice meeting you, Petra." _

_Petra grinned and waved. "You too, bye!"_

Hermione had seen the girl a few more times in the common room and often waved at her as they passed each other in the corridors. A ghost of a smile clung to her lips as she remembered their meeting and she wondered if the girl was still able to smile so brightly.

Hermione furrowed her brow as she thought of the small, grinning child with the mischievous glint in her eye locked up in some dark room somewhere, lost to the world. She hated the thought of that smile leaving her features, and of her eyes losing that glint and growing dull. Hermione glared at the shadows of the dancing flames splayed against the walls. She smoothed the cover of the book with her hand and sighed.

The portrait sung open and Hermione turned expecting to see Harry, Ron and Ginny lumber in, but her shoulders sagged in disappointment to see that the shadows weren't the familiar figures of her friends. Instead, it was Susan and Michael, the first years who were talking about her quite loudly in the library a while back.

Susan glanced at Hermione seated in the chair and smiled briefly at her. After nudging Michael and blatantly pointing, she dragged the blushing boy over to where Hermione was seated. "Hi," she said with a trace of rouge lighting her cheeks.

Hermione nodded her greeting to the both of them. Michael only grew redder and seemed to shrink under her gaze. They were both so small.

"Listen, we just wanted to say we're sorry. For, you know, talking and stuff. Right Michael?" Susan elbowed the boy in the ribs and he winced and stepped forward shakily.

"Y-yeah. Sorry."

Hermione looked at the two of them and smiled. She didn't expect them to come up to her and apologize of their own accord, and she admired the two for that. "Thank you, and it's alright. I know you didn't mean anything by it."

Susan looked relieved and her face brightened as she stepped forward. "Oh great, and you know, we don't care if everyone thinks you're slightly off or that most of the girls in our year are jealous of you because you've seized Harry's heart."

Hermione raised her eyebrow at this. Seized Harry's heart? That sounded a bit too dramatic didn't it? It was more like stumbled upon his heart, really. After all of that trouble, he did far more of the capturing than she.

Using selective hearing she chose to ignore the comment that suggested the whole school thinking she was a raving lunatic.

Michael continued to cast shy glances in her direction and Susan, who must have forgotten how to breathe, continued to talk in her hurried way, "And we think that you're doing a brilliant job at being Head Girl. I heard Professor McGonagall say something about less students running amok in the halls this term."

This girl was really quite funny. Running amok. It was as if in the past terms the students would wait by their respected common rooms until nightfall and then with much rejoicing they'd run out into the corridors for no apparent reason. Hermione bit back a smile as a picture popped into her head of students running through the corridors, arms flailing, screaming at the top of their lungs. Still she couldn't help but feel a stab of pride at the girl's comment. My goodness, was she still talking?

"And well, yeah. That's all we wanted to say. We'll just leave you alone now. You must be busy and all. We're sorry again, and erm, yeah. Bye." And with a final wave from one and a shy smile from another the two of them left for their dorms before Hermione could get a word out.

They raced up the stairs and passed by Eran Lot who was on her way down. She glanced at Michael who was still red in the face and grinned as she made her way down the stairs.

"He fancies you, you know," she said.

"Who? Michael? No of course not," Hermione laughed. "Why would you think such a thing?"

"I overheard the two of them talking. Susan was urging him to approach you, but he wouldn't have it. When word got out that you and Harry were finally an item the boy was crushed."

Surprised and mildly flustered at the thought of someone (even a boy 6 years her junior) even remotely thinking of her beyond the mere acquaintance category, Hermione flushed and glanced ruefully up the stairs where the boy had been. "Oh, that's horrible, but I'm sure he'll find someone. He's got plenty of time."

"That's exactly what Susan told him. He's completely oblivious." Eran tossed her light hair over her shoulder and Hermione grinned and said, "She's fallen for him hasn't she?"

"Very hard, and he's too thick to see it, but he'll come around. I'm sure of it."

Hermione laughed. "How are you so sure of this?" she asked.

"Through observation," Eran answered with a grin and Hermione looked at her lap as she tried to hide her blushing features.

"Shouldn't you be in bed by now? What are you doing down here?" she said.

Eran walked over to the table and leaned against the chair. "Just wanted to offer my congratulations. That and I forgot my book." She waved the said book up in the air and blew her hair out of her eyes.

"Do all the Gryffindors know about us already?"

"Hermione, the whole school knows about you two. Word does travel quite fast you know."

Hermione rolled her eyes in answer. Eran laughed, bid her goodnight and disappeared up the stairs.

Alone once more she turned her gaze back to the flames; her disposition much different from when she started.

The portrait opened once again and in climbed a grumpy looking Ginny followed by a grumbling Ron and a snow covered Harry. Hermione whisked warming and cleaning charms on all of them.

"What happened to you three?" she asked.

"Charmed snowballs," Harry answered.

Ron grumbled and took a seat in an armchair. "Must've been Malfoy," he grumbled. "Slimy git."

Hermione caught Ginny's eye and the red head quickly began to fuss with her robes.

"Maybe we should talk tomorrow. You all look like you need rest."

"No, just a shower, maybe something to eat," Ginny said and at her last words Ron caught Hermione's eye and quirked an eyebrow. She remembered their last trip to the kitchens. That wasn't exactly a stroll through the park. She mouthed a quick 'no' to him, but Harry quickly caught this exchange and said, "Hermione and I could go."

Ron shook his head. "Oh, no. You two aren't going anywhere alone together. Especially after hours. It's bad enough practice was a sodding mess, but I won't have you two snogging each other in the corridors while I'm stuck here with Ginny."

"Love you too, big brother," Ginny said dryly.

Hermione and Harry both flushed.

"We won't be snogging."

"Shut it, Ron."

"Wait, how will you get the food?" Ginny asked and the three of them froze.

"Erm…we'll ask Dobby to make some," Ron said and he avoided his sister's eye.

Ginny eyed the three of them suspiciously.

"How?" she said.

"Well I reckon he'd use some of that house elf magic, stand by the stove and-"

"Not how will he make it! How will you get it!" Ginny noticed the three of them carefully avoiding her eye. She huffed, stood up and placed her hands on her hips. "Well," she said hotly, "if you're not going to tell me then I'll be off to bed then!"

"Ginny, wait," Hermione said. "It's in the kitchens. Fed and George told us a while ago and we've been going there ever since."

Ginny looked from a contrite looking Hermione to a red eared Ron and a sheepish Harry. "Well? What are you all sitting there for? Let's go."

"Now?" Hermione said in disbelief.

"Well I am feeling a bit peckish," Ginny said.

"_All _of us?" Hermione said looking pointedly at her.

"Sure why not?"

"Maybe 'cause not all of us can fit under Harry's cloak," Ron said, then his eyes bulged and he raised a hand to his mouth, horrified at what he had just blurted.

"What cloak?"

"I mean," he faltered. "Oh, bugger."

"Ron!" Hermione looked at Ron in incredulity then glanced at Harry who was shaking his head in disbelief.

"Well she was bound to find out anyway and it's not like she'll tell anyone," Ron said.

"I can't believe you just-"

"It's alright. It's Gin after all," Harry assured them.

Ginny looked at the three of them in frustration. "Can someone please tell me what's going on?"

Harry jumped to his feet. "Hang on a minute. I'll get it for you." He raced up the stairs and into his dorm to grab his cloak and threw it over himself. Then he made his way as quietly as possible back down the stairs and watched the three of them.

"We can't all fit under his cloak!" Hermione was saying.

Ron shrugged. "Sure we can."

Harry snickered at the look on Hermione's face as she turned to Ron and said loudly, "Ron! You're not helping!"

Meanwhile Ginny was looking from one to the other saying, "What cloak!"

Harry thought that now was the best time to show Ginny exactly what kind of cloak they were talking about. With a flourish, he unraveled his head from the confines with a simple, "This cloak."

Needless to say, Harry Potter's head materializing out of thin air unattached to his body caused quite a reaction.

* * *

They were in Hermione's Room of Relaxation. How the four of them managed to get there under one cloak, laden with food and not getting caught was a miracle in of itself. It was yet again another one of those few moments that Harry and Ron wished they weren't blessed with the gift of height.

Ron munched on a pastry and cast an admiring glance around the room. "Hey, Harry. You wouldn't mind if Luna and I would use the room every now and then would you?"

"As a place to talk, sure. As a love shack, no."

Harry deftly caught the pastry aimed at his head and took a bite.

Ginny too was eyeing the room with much admiration. "So this works just like it did with DA classes?" she asked.

"Yeah," Harry said drinking from a flask of pumpkin juice.

"And no one can barge in here unless they absolutely know where you are?"

"Yeah."

"So this can be used for privacy?"

"That's the idea."

Ginny nodded in answer and Harry and Ron didn't notice the warning look Hermione was giving her.

"You didn't give the gramophone back to Luna, mate?" Ron said as he noticed the contraption on the table.

"Actually I did but she said that I could keep it for a bit if she and you can come in here sometimes. "

Ron paused in his choosing another pastry.

"And you said yes, right?"

"Had to."

"Excellent."

Ron bit into the pastry with relish.

* * *

"There weren't any beds here before," Hermione sounded from the second floor. Most of the food was now gone and they had each took a turn at the musical contraption. Now the four of them lazed around in their respective spots in the room.

"Yeah, that's 'cause as much as I love Ron, I don't fancy much wrapping my arms around him and banging into him repeatedly," Harry said from his position on the couch.

Ron looked up from the chessboard with mock sadness. "And you told me you loved me," he said.

"And I absolutely hate you. Can't you just let me win? Just once?" Ginny said as she contemplated her next move.

"But that would mean I'd have to lose. Then the world would end, Gin."

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.

"Prat."

Hermione smiled as she counted four beds. _Thank you, Harry. _She thought. He was a gentleman after all. Hermione yawned. "Well, it's late. I'm going to bed."

Harry sat up and craned his neck to look up at the second floor. "You okay?" he said worriedly.

"I'm fine. Just tired," she said and gave him a reassuring smile.

"The one on the far left is yours," Harry called out.

Her smile grew wider when she spotted a nightgown spread over the bed. Beside it lay a muggle novel with a single rose sitting on the hard cover. Hermione laughed softly and she brought the flower up to her nose, inhaling its scent. Moments later coming fresh out of the washroom, (yet another new addition to the room) she crawled into the bed. Four chapters into the book, she felt her eyes grow heavy and she placed it by the bedside table and called out her goodnights. The rose lay by her pillow; its scent filled her and lulled her into a deep and restful sleep.

* * *

_There was an explosion. A burst of light pressed against her closed eyelids and she pressed her lips into a thin line. Something was different. The air felt colder here. The pungent smell of sweat and sick stung her nostrils and her skin felt itchy and grimy, as if she hadn't showered in weeks. Sharp pangs sliced through her empty stomach and her arms and shoulders ached. She tried to move. A clinking sound pierced the empty room and sent a message to her slowly waking mind. Feebly, she tried to move her writs and the sound persisted. In an instant the echo of her ragged breath reached her ears, but it was faint and felt distant. The bright light pushed incessantly against her and she wondered why she couldn't see. _

"_**That's because my eyes are closed," **a familiar voice filled her mind, startling her. _

"_**Well then open them," **she answered. _

_Her eyes tentatively opened and the light stabbed into her retinas causing a whimper to escape from her throat. _

"_Wonderful," she said in a voice that wasn't hers, but it did sound awfully familiar to her. She was growing aware of a sudden constricting feeling building up in her chest; as if someone was trying to claw out of her. She twisted her head in an effort to be rid of the glaring light coming from the open door. _

"_**Hermione?" **the voice said timidly. _

_Hermione felt as if she was doused with gallons of ice cold water; she had recognized the voice. _

"_**Petra?" **_

_And a girl burst in through the open door shouting, "Petra! Petra Quick! Run!" Her grey eyes were wild with terror and her short cropped hair fell into her eyes as she raised a wand and uttered a spell. Without warning Hermione found herself in a crumpled heap on the ground and the girl rushed to help her up. The chains had disappeared and the muscles in her arms screamed in relief but Hermione felt all of this from a distance and she watched bewildered through Petra's eyes. _

"_Wha...what? Adel?" Petra stuttered and she tried to focus on the face that swam before her eyes. Hermione studied the girl before her. She was filthy; her hair stuck up at odd angles, her face was pale and ridden with sweat. _

"_How..." Petra's eyes widened and Hermione gasped. _

_The girl's arms were caked in blood. _

"_Adel, what did you do?" _

"_What we've waited for, now get up. We're leaving." _

"_**But she's hurt!" **Hermione shouted within the confines of the girl's mind. _

"**_We're all hurt,"_** _Petra answered. _

_Hermione looked through Petra's eyes as one arm wrapped around the other, the two girls hobbled across the marble floors. There was a shout and they quickly dived behind a column as a jet of red light shot by them. _

"_You're bleeding!" Petra said horrified at the older girl holding her up. _

_Both were breathing heavily and through Petra's eyes Hermione saw Adel's wand hand shaking fiercely. She could feel Petra's overwhelming surprise and fear. It had all happened so suddenly. _

_Petra had never exchanged more than two words with Adel save for the time they exchanged names. She was the silent third year Hufflepuff who always sat in the corner of the room never initiating contact with any of the girls save for the moments when Voldemort came for them. In those moments Adel would huddle with the other girls, clutching at them tightly and hoping that if chosen, she would come back alive. _

_Adel braced herself against the thick column at her back and leaned her head against it. _

"_It's not my blood," she answered. _

_Wand in bloodied hand and wide eyed, Adel turned and shot a spell over her shoulder. There was a strangled scream as one of their pursuers fell behind. They darted to the other column and Adel sent more spells to their attackers. _

"_Stupefy! Impedimenta! Stupefy! STUPEFY!" _

_She was attacking blindly, but her wild spells managed to hit some of their targets sending them crashing against the walls, their bones splintering on impact. Others simply collapsed on the spot. Hermione couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for the child as she managed to rid them of the attacking Death Eaters. Their moment of celebration was short lived however as more just replaced the ones she had disposed of. _

_One pushed his way through the others, blood matted his chest and his pale face was splattered with it. _

"_Get outta the way. I'll kill the wench!" he screeched and raised his wand. "Crucio!" _

_Adel's back arched and she fell to the floor bringing Petra down with her. Hermione watched in horror as the girl's body wrecked with spasms convulsed and shuddered on the cold marble. Her mouth was wide open in an endless scream and the wand rolled out of her grasp. _

_In a flash, Petra scooped the wand in her hands. She only knew a handful of spells, being only in first year, but she didn't hesitate to use them. "Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Wingardium Leviosa!"_

"_**Tell Dumbledore," **Petra said. _

_The tall ivory doors loomed before them. Hermione saw a small tanned hand that was not her own reach for them. The doors opened wide revealing two girls huddled in the corner of the room. A lone candle illuminated the one girl who she recognized as Emma Dobbs, clutching the prone figure of who must be Orla Quirke. Orla's chest rose and fell as she tried to gulp in air. Her arm lay outstretched on the floor and was wrapped in a ragged tourniquet. She turned her eyes towards the open door as Adel's screams filled the room. _

"**_What have they done to you?" _**

_Before Petra could answer her, a red spark shot into her back. The child uttered a small gasp before their vision clouded and it was as if time stopped. _

_There was a searing pain in both of their heads and Hermione and Petra threw their heads back and screamed in blind agony. Pictures and visions raced through Hermione's mind and it took only a moment for her to realize that they were the many scattered memories of Petra's short lived life. She could only guess that her own memories were being projected into Petra's mind. Hermione flushed as the image of her and Harry embracing raced along with the others. Neither of them could stop any of the pictures from flashing before their eyes. It was a movie, and what only took mere moments seemed to take forever for them. _

"_**I'm a source?" **_

"_**We'll come for all of you. Keep them alive until we do." **_

"_**Hurry." **_

_Another faint spasm of pain ripped through Hermione and she cried out in dismay not for herself but for the girl who could feel the full force of it. _Then she opened her eyes.


	14. The Consequences of Waking

Disclaimer: I am not J.K Rowling, though sometime I do wish I was. Nor does any of this belong to me, save for the characters that you all don't recognize. If I was making any money from this life would be all the more sweeter.

A/N: You know, I just found an inconsistency in my story. In chapter 5 (Awake in a Dream) we first meet Michael and Susan, but they're in 4th year. Then when we come across them again, in chapter 13 (Telling Ron) they've somehow fallen back to 1st year. So just to clear things up: SUSAN AND MICHAEL ARE FIRST YEARS. Sorry about that.

You're all wonderful and your reviews are just so awesome. I'm glad that you're all enjoying this. It's fun to write and it's even better to read the feedback.

Amanda: Just a quick answer to your question: No I don't add characters in just for kicks. Everyone's got a purpose in this story. Even the little things they do might by important. Think of them as hints. D

* * *

She was bored. Horrifically bored. Tremendously bored. Incredibly, absolutely, stupendously bored, which explained the book in her hand. Not that Ginevra Weasley loathed books. Quite the contrary actually. In the common room she would sometimes curl up by the fire, her head buried in a novel, but these moments were few and far between. Right now she wanted to do something exciting. Like Draco Malfoy for instance. The sudden picture of the blond wizard smirking at her made her blink and shake her head. Absolutely not. Hermione needed her and she would not leave to satisfy certain cravings.

The book in her hand slowly lowered onto her lap as her mind wandered. She gazed down over the banister overlooking the ground floor of the room. Harry was sprawled on the sofa; one arm draped over his eyes the other splayed over the edge of the cushion, his fingers brushing the soft carpet. His chest slowly rose and fell and his glasses lay on the table which sheltered a snoring Ron. How her brother had managed to roll from his spot by the hearth to the middle of the room and scoot under the coffee table in his sleep was unfathomable to her. She smiled fondly at him and giggled. He was lying on his stomach, his cheek resting on the carpet. One arm was bent and pressed against his mat of hair and the other was stretched out past the table leg as if he was reaching for something. He really did need a hair cut. Ginny bit her lip. She didn't know how she was going to tell him, but she had to eventually.

Her eyes wandered to the shut door. She was supposed to meet him tonight. She wondered if Draco was still waiting for her. Knowing him, he probably was. Her eyes hardened and she clutched the book and forced herself to concentrate on the words printed on the page.

"I won't leave her. Not now, and not for a bloody snog."

He was probably pacing in the dark corner muttering to himself angrily. She could just hear him muttering, "Damn Weasley. Making me wait here like a bleeding damsel. Does she expect me to stay here all sodding night? Five more minutes and then I'm off."

Her lips curved into a smile. He'd add five more minutes to that. Then five more. Then another five just to be safe.

Ginny's eyes flicked to the door again. She didn't like leaving him like that. _Maybe just a quick snog—_A scream sliced through the silence of the room. Ginny jerked in surprise and looked towards Hermione's bed. She shot to her feet without hesitation. There was an echoing thump from downstairs and a loud curse, but Ginny didn't bother to look down and see Ron wincing and rubbing his head as he moved from under the table.

"Hermione?"

She threw open the curtains and Hermione's head whipped towards her, eyes wide with fright. Before she could say another word, Ginny stumbled back and cried out. Her hands clutched her face and she staggered before grasping the bed post at her back.

Hermione had thrown a book at her.

At that moment if someone were to ask her if she liked reading, Ginny would have pulled out her wand and shown the inconsiderate ponce just exactly how much she did.

"Ginny! Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!" Hermione rushed to her. "Here, let me just..." and she quickly took out her wand, and gently pulled Ginny's hands from her face. Ginny didn't notice Hermione wince before she said in a shaking voice, "I'm going to heal it. You'll only feel a bit of a chill." And with a wave of her wand Ginny felt as if her head was dunked into a bucket filled with ice. Her eyes shot open, and she gasped and jerked her head away.

"That is the last time I'm coming to your rescue," Ginny joked as she brought a hand to her head. She was healed and all that was left of the assault was a faint throbbing in her head, and a desire to curse whoever invented the hard cover book.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione apologized, still wanting to fuss over her face, but Ginny stepped back and pushed her hands away.

"Don't be, love. That must have been a hell of a dream."

Before Hermione could answer, Ron shouted as he staggered up the stairs, "Oy! What's going on up here? Sounds like a bleeding war." His hair was rumpled and his eyes still held traces of sleep.

"Hermione attacked me with a book," Ginny said and almost laughed at the scandalous look on Hermione's face.

"I didn't mean to-"

"Hermione, what did I tell you about asking nicely? If you want us to study just say so."

There was a shout from downstairs and all trace of good humor was swallowed in it. Without a thought, Ron and Hermione bounded down the stairs. Ginny, uncertain as to what was happening, rushed to the banister over looking the room.

Harry was shrieking. His back arched. His hands clutched his forehead, and only seconds later his fingers began to claw at his scar as a fresh howl escaped his gaping maw. Ron and Hermione were at his side immediately; one trying to calm him down, the other trying to wake him up. Both were desperately repeating his name, but Harry was oblivious to their attempts and only jerked on the cushions, his face red. The veins on his neck stood out as he arched against the arm of the sofa, his wails grating against the high ceiling.

Ginny could only stand there and stare in horror at the scene that unfolded below her. His screams were reaching a fevered pitch and in fright, she whipped out her wand and pointed it at the door.

"SILENCIO!"

Her voice was drowned in Harry's mindless screams. She shivered and a whimper escaped her throat as she watched a sobbing Hermione fearfully clutch Harry to her in an attempt to still his thrashing body. Ginny watched her pulled him to her chest. Tears leaked out of Hermione's shut eyes and in another moment she opened them and Ginny watched her focused her blurry gaze onto Harry saying, "It's okay! It's alright! I'm here! I'm here, Harry. I'm here."

Ron had fallen to his knees; face pale and eyes wide, he clutched at his best friend's shoulders. "Harry! Harry, mate wake up! It's a dream, mate! A sodding dream! WAKE UP, HARRY!"

Ginny gasped and her hand flew to her mouth in surprise when she noticed the blood that matted Harry's forehead. Streaks of crimson stained his face, but he continued to howl and claw at his head madly. "Oh, Harry," she whispered.

Then for the second time that night she jumped as Hermione threw her head back and let out a wordless scream of fury before she cried, "Let him go! LET HIM GO, DAMN YOU!"

Hermione had cursed. The words sounded foreign coming from her mouth, but it was exactly what Ginny needed because she suddenly snapped out of whatever was holding her to the spot and rushed down the stairs. Wand trembling in her outstretched hand, Ginny looked at Harry and said the first thing that came to mind.

"Stupefy!"

And he fell limp in Hermione's arms.

The room was doused in a deafening silence. Breathing heavily, Ron and Hermione looked up at her, but none said a word. Ginny stood there with her wand still outstretched and shaking. "I-I'm s-sorry. I didn't know what else to do."

Ron only stared at her in shock until Hermione nudged him with her arm. In confusion, he looked back at her but she only looked at him with eyes that said, "Comfort her you brainless idiot!"

Ron stood and walked over to Ginny, whose trembling arm was still raised. He gently took her hand and placed it by her side then looked at her unsure of what to do next. Ginny only looked at Hermione who was fussing over Harry and asked, "He…He's going to be okay?"

Ron put an arm awkwardly on her shoulder and nodded. Not sure if that was enough, he raised his hand and patted her head gently. "Yeah. He'll be fine. Harry'll be alright."

"I didn't hurt him?"

"No. You didn't, Gin. It's okay," he said soothingly and she nodded.

Ginny wiped the tears from her eyes. She looked at Hermione, and watched her kiss Harry's cheek and brush the blood from his forehead with her fingertips. There was a look of disbelief on her features as she gazed at offending colour staining her fingers. "Ron, c-can you…?"

It took a moment for Ron to realize what she was asking him and he strode over to a book and transfigured it to a cloth. "Here," he said as he handed it to her. Then he pointed his wand at Harry. "Enervate."

Harry's eyes opened with a gasp and Hermione's hand froze in the act of wiping away the blood. His chest heaved with each breath his took.

"H…Hermione."

"I'm here, Harry. Shhh, I'm right here."

"Don't go," he said weakly.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here, darling. It's alright. He's gone now."

"I…I think t-they killed her. I think she's dead," Harry muttered then he moaned in dismay. "Oh, god, I'm sorry…D-dead. My fault. Hermione. It's all my fault."

"Shh, no, Harry. None of this is your fault. Petra's not dead. She's fine."

"No no. Not…it's the other one….My fault. All my fault."

"You're not making sense, mate," Ron said.

"Ron, please," Hermione implored, but her eyes were wide and bright with fear.

She shifted under Harry's weight, and he mistook it for her getting up. Her eyes darted back to him when his hand shot to her arm.

"No no! Don't go," he said desperately.

"Harry, I'm not going anywhere." She kissed him softly. "You were squashing me and I had to move," she said gently.

"I'm sorry," he said in a tired voice, oddly sounding as if he was a child caught in the act of writing on the walls.

"Stop apologizing. Nothing is your fault. Just relax, love. Shhh, just relax."

"Stay?" he murmured.

"Of course I will."

Feeling awkward and embarrassed to hear such an exchange, Ginny turned her back to them. Harry fell silent.

"Gin?" Ron was once again kneeling by Harry and staring worriedly at him. "Get Dumbledore, and hurry."

She nodded, and with another brief glance at Harry she ran from the room. Shutting the door behind her, she didn't pause to take a breath. She only ran to what she hoped was the right direction to the Headmaster's quarters.

As Ginny sped down the dark corridors, she brushed off the realization that in her haste she had forgotten to take Harry's cloak with her. Nothing could be done about it now. If a teacher found her then all the better. She wouldn't have to run blindly.

She nearly flew down one stair case and almost broke her neck in the process.

_Left or right? Oh, please let it be a left. _

Ginny turned left into a dark corridor and ran straight into what felt like a brick wall. Falling hard on her rear, she braced her hands on the floor and pushed herself up with a growl.

"If wanted me that badly, freckles, you didn't have to keep me waiting." Her brick wall held out a hand to help her up, but she ignored it and pushed herself up on her own with a wince.

"Not, now, Draco. I need to find Dumbledore. It's Harry."

Draco raised an eyebrow as she pushed past him and his features darkened. His voice hardened in what could only be jealousy as he said, "What, did Potter wet his bed?" He placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her around, but one glance at the wild look in her eyes filled him with worry. "Gin, what happened?" He brought a hand to gently lift her chin towards him as he peered at her face. His eyes grew cold. "Did he hurt you?" he growled.

"No, Draco! I'll explain later, but I _need_ to find Dumbledore _now_." She wrenched her chin from his grasp and turned to dash away, but he took a hold of her wrist and slipped her hand into his.

"First of all, you're going the wrong way, freckles." At the sound of the nickname, she scowled at him, but he ignored her as he pulled her along. "And second," he continued without breaking his stride and turned to look down at her, "I'll take a rain check."

"Just hurry, you sodding lummox," Ginny growled and fumed when he chuckled.

_How I ever got involved with this man is beyond me._

_

* * *

_

"With all do respect, Albus. Don't you think the children are far too young to be learning such advanced magic?"

"Please, Matilda. I am grateful for your concern, but I assure you that I know what I am doing, and Professor Quinlan is quite capable."

"First years learning third year defense spells? No one has ever changed the curriculum so thoroughly, Albus."

"That is true, Malachy, but Voldemort has indeed risen and we must go to any extremes to prepare the students. If the school was ever to be attacked, I refuse to have any of the students incapable of protecting themselves and their fellows."

"Attack Hogwarts! He wouldn't dare!" a hawk-nosed woman sniffed as she shifted in her portrait. "No one has ever been able to breach the castle walls, and even if that monster manages to break in there are dozens of wards and ancient spells that would stop them."

Dumbledore nodded at the portrait that hung to the left of him, and he looked thoughtfully at a few sheets of parchment on his desk He scratched his nose before answering, "Be that as it may, Shirley, I won't have the students defenseless."

There was a knock at the door and Dumbledore looked up in surprise. He absentmindedly rubbed his forehead and wondered if this sudden interruption was connected to the foreboding sensation he had felt earlier. The wizards and witches in their respected portraits fell silent immediately and Dumbledore, not taking his eyes off the parchment, said, "Come in."

Draco Malfoy strode in; his silver eyes glinted as they took in the snoring portraits. A hint of a smirk graced his lips before he directed his gaze to the Headmaster and bowed his head respectfully, without breaking eye contact.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he nodded in turn. The boy was certainly growing up to be a fine young man with as much pride and insolence as his father. Dumbledore looked behind Draco at the girl who was trying not to tremble. Perhaps Miss Weasley could tame him.

"Good evening, or should I say good morning, Mr. Malfoy, Miss. Weasley."

Ginny's cheeked were tinged with rouge and Draco's eyes hardened, but he still managed to come off as being courteous. Yes, the boy was indeed very much like his father.

" I'm sorry to bother you professor, but I was studying in the prefects' room and I was…heading to the…" his jaw clenched and his voice lowered as he muttered, "lavatory".

Dumbledore hid a smile at Draco's unnecessary embarrassment, but nodded for him too continue.

"When I saw, Gin-" Draco straightened and continued curtly, "Miss Weasley, here. I was going to send the girl back to her House but she told me that she needed to talk to you."

Dumbledore glanced at Ginny and this time a smile did grace his features. For he saw the child stare daggers at the young man's back at the mention of 'girl'. Clearly, she was exactly what the boy needed to bring out his mother's nature. They would make a fine match.

"Well, Miss Weasley," he noticed Ginny's attention suddenly snap back to him and he continued, "What is it that you want to speak to me about?"

* * *

The door burst open and Hermione and Ron's head jerked to the entrance. Ron swallowed audibly at the sight of the Headmaster striding in with determined eyes. Hermione clutched Harry to her as Dumbledore looked over them. Worry clouded his features, and he brought a hand to Harry's forehead. Immediately the gashes across his forehead disappeared without a trace, leaving only the lightening bolt shaped scar.

"It's alright, Miss Granger. Let's bring him to the infirmary. I am sure Madam Pomfrey will set him to rights in no time."

Hermione trembled, but nodded, and with surprising strength that made Ron wonder what exactly the Headmaster eats for breakfast, Dumbledore bent and scooped Harry into his arms as if he weighed nothing at all.

Ginny and Malfoy stepped out of the way as Dumbledore swept past them and out the door with Hermione in his wake. It was then that Ron noticed Malfoy's hand on Ginny's shoulder.

"Oy!"

Ginny jumped and Malfoy glanced at Ron with a raised eyebrow.

"Get your hand off my sister!"

Malfoy glanced at his hand which rested protectively on Ginny's shoulder. He looked up at Ron and with a deliberate smirk in his direction, Malfoy slowly took his hand away and brought it back to his side. Ron marched over to them, pulled Ginny behind him and towered over Malfoy.

"What're you doing here?" he snarled.

"Temper, Weasley. Honestly, I figured I'd get more thanks than this. After all, I'm the one who found your sister running around the corridors like a lost child. If it wasn't for me, your precious Potty would still be lying with mudblood over there, crying for his mum as if he was dying or something."

Pure rage filled Ron but before he could pull his fist back, Ginny pushed him aside and—SLAP!

Malfoy stumbled back a step from the sudden assault and Ginny's hand stung. Her eyes flashed and he looked at her in shock, a look which mirrored Ron's. But Ron was now forgotten.

"Don't you _dare_, Draco Malfoy," she said angrily, though her voice trembled.

Malfoy's face was stone but his eyes watched her with a look that Ron couldn't quite make out. He didn't like it.

"You have no idea what Harry has to go through. No sodding idea. So don't ever…don't you even say…" her throat constricted and she turned abruptly and took a hold of Ron's arm. "Just piss off, Draco," she said and dragged Ron away.

Ron turned back, expecting a snide remark to escape Malfoy's lips, but the man said not a word. He just stood there and stared at their retreating backs. His eyes shining with that something that Ron couldn't quite figure out.

There was something tugging at his brain though, and it was only when they had stepped through the doors and into the infirmary that with a sudden shock, Ron realized what had been bothering him so.

He stared at Ginny quizzically but she took no notice of his attention and only held Hermione's hand in comfort as they waited for Madame Pomfrey to allow them past the drawn curtains.

Ron tried to catch Ginny's eye. Something was definitely not right, and all it took for him to see this was one word.

Draco.

She had called him Draco.

* * *

"Mr. Weasley, if you would please awaken Professor McGonagall and bring her here. I believe that since this is concerning several students of her house, her presence is needed. You may go to my office and summon her from there. The password is Periwinkle."

Ron nodded and with a brief glance at Hermione he was off in a flash. Dumbledore then turned to Draco, "Mr. Malfoy, I believe it is long past Miss Weasley's bedtime. If you would please escort her to the Gryffindor common room."

Draco nodded curtly and headed for the door expecting Ginny to follow him. Instead she ignored Draco and looked up at the Headmaster saying, "No." Draco blinked at her response and put a hand on her arm, but she shook it off.

Dumbledore turned his full attention to her and she coloured slightly before going on, "I-I mean, no, professor. I would like to stay here with Hermione."

There was a heartbeat of silence before Dumbledore nodded. "Well then, Mr. Malfoy, thank you for help, but I think it's time that you should be off to bed."

For a moment it looked as if Draco was going to object but he just nodded and strode out of the room. Ginny turned to watch him go for a brief moment then turned her attention back to Hermione who never took her gaze from the drawn curtains.

"Well, I would like to think that now is a good time as any for a cup of tea," Dumbledore said and conjured up three steaming cups. "Careful it's quite hot."

Seeing Hermione making not a move to accept them, Ginny took the cups and murmured her thanks. She sipped from hers and handed Hermione the other, but Hermione ignored the steaming cup in her hands and only watched for Madam Pomfrey with dull eyes.

"I'm sure Harry will be fine, Miss Granger. He's in very capable hands." Dumbledore said gently as he peered down at Hermione's frozen form. Ginny noted that his eyebrows were knitted together and he tilted his head to get a better look at Hermione's face.

Ginny watched her anxiously. Hermione hadn't spoken since the incident and Ginny wondered how she was taking all of it. She was acting very strangely; all quiet and stiff. It was as if she wasn't herself at all.

There was no time for Ginny to react. One minute she had stretched her arm to place it comfortingly on Hermione's saying, "Hey, Hermione," then Dumbledore had stepped forward, pulled her behind him with a hiss and Hermione suddenly had her wand outstretched.

"Secumptsera!" she said hoarsely.

There was a flash of red and Dumbledore swiped his wand over his chest before the crimson jet could slice through him. Ginny cried out and dropped her cup. Dumbledore stumbled back a step.

"What on earth is-" Madam Pomfrey stepped out from behind the curtain and Hermione whipped towards the woman with a vicious, "Vreustem!"

"Kalatorpus!" Dumbledore shouted and a shower of blue sparks shattered over an invisible barrier that suddenly encased Madame Pomfrey causing her to stumble back in surprise.

"Hermione! Fight back!" Ginny shouted and she saw Hermione turn to look at her with a smirk on her face.

"The child cannot fight back. She does not have the power to do so, Miss Weasley," Hermione said.

"Leave her, Tom. She is of no use to you," Dumbledore said taking a step forward.

Hermione raised her wand slowly to point it at his chest. "Quite the contrary, Dumbledore. Hermione is extremely valuable," she looked up at him, her brown eyes glinting.

"You see, she will bring me him," Hermione drawled, waving her hand casually towards the drawn curtains. "And I simply will not have you or any one get in my way of taking what is rightfully mine."

Ginny shuddered. Knowing that it wasn't Hermione talking to them but the Dark Lord himself was horrific, but hearing Hermione's voice and seeing her face twisted into a smirk made her want to lash out.

"Revenge is pointless, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, his eyes blue flames.

Ginny gripped her wand tightly and her eyes darted to the doorway at the sound of a gasp. Ron had skidded to a stop with Professor McGonagall standing behind him.

The sight that greeted him must have been wondrous indeed. Hermione was standing in the middle of the room with her wand pointed dangerously at Dumbledore, who stood in front of Ginny gripping her wand until her knuckles turned white.

Shards of the broken cup littered her feet and the tea pooled around her. Madame Pomfrey stood rooted to the spot, her face pale with fright and eyes bright with confusion. The white sheet of the curtain was the only thing that stood between her and Harry's prone form on the bed.

Then Hermione laughed. The sound was horrible and unlike anything Ginny had ever heard escape her friend's throat.

"Revenge? You're an even bigger fool than I thought, Dumbledore. Revenge is petty. No, it is destiny that I am after."

"Miss Granger, what is the meaning of this!" McGonagall said in a stern voice and Ginny shut her eyes and winced.

Hermione slowly tilted her head towards the doorway and her features became stone. Her eyes grew hard and there was a glint of distaste as she looked the woman up and down.

Then settling her gaze on the professor's stricken features she said, "I am sorry, but Miss Granger is not available at the moment," then her features twisted into an amused look as she continued, "But if you will leave you name, number and brief message, I'm sure she will get back to you as soon as possible."

"It's Tom, Minerva," Dumbledore said.

Professor McGonagall spluttered in answer. Ginny noticed Madame Pomfrey shift her wand to her other hand. Ron looked as if someone had punched him in the face. Hermione's eyes darted to look at him and he clenched his jaw.

She winked.

Ron's face paled.

That hard laughter escaped her lips once more. She looked at the cup of tea in her hand thoughtfully and raised the cup to her lips. Swallowing, she nodded in mocking approval.

"Well, I believe my time is up. Send my love to dearest Harry and tell him that Adel isn't dead. What he did was foolish and it has cost Miss Granger dearly."

Hermione stepped towards Dumbledore and he drew up against her, wand raised. She looked amused then suddenly her features shifted as she made herself look contrite.

"What are you going to do, professor? Expel me?"

Dumbledore's mouth thinned. "You are wasting your time, Tom."

"No, but I do think that I am wasting yours," Hermione answered, her face once more tinged with amusement. Her eyes moved to Ginny, who forced herself not to draw back from the stare.

"Tell Draco I say hello."

"You won't have him," Ginny hissed.

"Just like I didn't have you?"

Hermione smirked and Ginny felt as if a ton of bricks fell into the pit of her stomach.

Hermione turned to Dumbledore once more and said, "There is no use, Dumbledore. There is no hope. _I will have him,_" she finished vehemently.

Her lips curved into a feral grin and she raised the cup to Dumbledore and bowed her head mockingly, not taking her eyes off him.

"Thank you for the tea."

Then Hermione shut her eyes, shuddered and fell to the ground.


	15. Put the Book Back on the Shelf

Disclaimer: None is mine, save for the characters and things you don't recognize.

A/N: Here is a list of things I must blame on the long wait for this chapter: 1. school work 2. new job (go me!) 3. sheer laziness with a touch of writer's block, and for that I am sorry.

I must thank everyone who has taken the time to read review. I'm almost at 200, and oh my god I can't believe it. If I go pass it, I think I'll spontaneously combust.

* * *

Dumbledore was the first to move. He scooped Hermione into his arms and cradled her head to his chest as if she was a child.

"Poppy, we will need an extra bed."

Flustered, Madame Pomfrey brought a hand to her mouth but only for a moment before she quickly rushed to an empty bed and made it ready.

Dumbledore set a limp Hermione onto the bed and placed a hand on her forehead. He shut his eyes for a brief moment and placed the tip of his wand to the column of her neck. Then he nodded and opened his eyes. He looked at Madame Pomfrey who scurried over with small coloured bottles in her hands. The woman rolled up her sleeves and began to work on the girl.

With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore cleaned up the mess at Ginny's feet. The broken pieces flew into the bin and the pool of tea dried up.

"Minerva, please send an owl to Miss Granger's current guardians. Tell them I will visit them first thing in the morning and explain everything."

McGonagall nodded and was out of the room, leaving Ron still frozen in the doorway.

"Mr. Weasley, if you can please check on Harry."

Ron stepped into the room, shakily and said, "Is she…I mean, is she gonna be…"

"Miss Granger will be alright. The moment has past and all she needs is a goodnight sleep."

Ron nodded and went behind the curtain to Harry's bed. Dumbledore glanced at the now empty doorway and back to the curtains that encased Harry and Ron. "Miss Weasley," he said quietly. "I believe Mr. Malfoy is still outside. If you can please tell him to wait for me in my office, I will talk to him shortly."

Ginny's head whipped to the doorway in mild surprise and back to the Headmaster. She glanced at Hermione; the colour was already flooding back into her cheeks and Ginny let out a breath in relief. Then glancing back at the doorway she said, "He's not what everyone thinks he is."

"I am aware of that Miss Weasley."

"You won't let anything happen to him?"

Suddenly Dumbledore looked very tired and his lips turned up in a sad smile. "I cannot promise you anything, Miss Weasley. But I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to prevent Draco from following in his father's footsteps."

This answer seemed to satisfy her and with one last glance at Hermione, Ginny scooted out the door. She paused in the hallway and looked up and down the corridor.

"Draco?"

"Here."

He stepped out of the shadows without a sound, his face as pale as ever. His eyes were bright with fright. She was too shaken to be annoyed at him.

"Are you alright?" he whispered.

She didn't answer him for a long while and he could see her eyes darting as she looked into his. She nodded silently.

He took a step towards her and swallowed. "I didn't know," he croaked.

"It's not important."

"Yes it is," he said looking at her intently.

They were silent, then, "When did it happen?"

"My first year."

His eyes flashed with something that she couldn't make out. He reached an arm out to her but she stepped away from him.

"Hermione could die, Draco," she said; her voice barely a whisper, but it ran clearly in his ears.

Draco froze and watched the tears fill her eyes.

"Potter won't let her," he answered gruffly.

Ginny angrily swiped her eyes with the back of her hand and squared her shoulders. "Yeah," she nodded. "Yeah, he won't."

"Listen, about what I said earlier…I..." he swallowed once more looking as if it was a great effort to continue. "I'm sorry."

Ginny shook her head. "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

At this Draco just looked at her with an unreadable expression. Then he nodded.

"Dumbledore wants to talk to you in his office."

They began walking down the dark corridor, back the way they came.

"So…He's gone?" Draco asked. The light from the flames of the mounted torches flickered across his face.

"For now? Yes."

"Can I ask how?"

She almost stopped in her tracks to look up at him silently. Draco looked at her and brought a hand to his cheek.

"I think that after that display of affection you so kindly presented in that room before we went to the infirmary, you owe me an explanation."

"I don't owe you anything."

"Listen, freckles, I know I was out of line with that comment, and it kills me to say so. But before I talk to Granger I want to know why I'm apologizing."

Ginny bit her lip. He wanted to know why the Dark Lord had managed to control Hermione.

"You're really going to apologize?"

"For you, yes."

"Draco," she sent a glare in his direction.

"Okay, okay. I'll try. I'm not making any promises, but I'll be civil."

"Thank you." Ginny sighed. "Draco, I'm sorry about earlier."

"Don't worry about it. I like a woman with a good swing."

She looked at him exasperatedly. "Don't. I'm not in the mood."

Draco nodded and was silent. Ginny sighed. "You cannot tell anyone about what you heard in the infirmary, alright? No one."

"I don't plan to."

"Good."

More silence. She knew that he was patiently waiting for her to talk.

"Dream Walking."

"What?"

"It's Dream Walking. Somnium gradi-something."

"Gradior?"

"Yes."

"What are you talking about?"

"You-Know-Who's doing it. To Hermione."

This made Draco pause in his tracks an Ginny walked ahead of him for a few paces before she realized that he was no longer beside her.

"You're sure? You're absolutely sure?"

"Yes."

Draco looked at her and his mouth thinned. A stain on the golden children. Finally. But what surprised him was that he wasn't satisfied. He wasn't smug about it. He wasn't smiling. There was something gnawing in the pit of his stomach and it felt oddly like remorse. He didn't like the feeling. Then again, he didn't hate Granger so much that he wanted her to die. Maybe an expulsion, some humiliation, but certainly not death. He wasn't his father. The gnawing feeling wouldn't stop and he cursed inwardly, struggling to keep his face free of any emotion. _I'm turning into a Weasley. _He thought to himself, but to his horror, deep down, there was an inkling of him that didn't mind this one bit.

Draco wanted to cringe.

Ginny's features relaxed into a semblance of a content smile. She had seen the concern in his eyes. And before he knew it, Ginny had taken his hand and led him the rest of the way back.

* * *

Ron's throat was dry. He had just finished explaining all he knew about Hermione's situation. From the night he had found the ring in the common room to the horrific moment of Harry clawing at his head and screaming so vigorously that he thought Harry must have scraped his lungs clean.

He was now standing in between the bed occupied by his two best friends. Torn between deciding on whose bed to stand by, he tiredly stood in the middle and avoided the clucking noises Madame Pomfrey made as she bustled from one bed to the other. He glanced at Harry. The gashes were gone and it was as if they had never existed. His chest slowly rose and fell with each breath he took and his arms rested at his sides. His face was still pale. Ron sighed tiredly and cast a fearful glance at Hermione. Madame Pomfrey was still hovering over her muttering to herself and looking quite shaken.

Ron swallowed. All he could see was Hermione's features twisted into a smirk that did not belong on her face.

"_I will have him."_ Voldemort's words ran in his head and his throat went dry. He coughed and scrubbed a hand over his face.

There was no time to think. Everything was happening so fast. Ron took a step forward. She looked so small lying in the bed. She took shallow breaths, but whatever Madame Pomfrey was doing to her, it was working. The colour had returned to her face, and if it wasn't for that, Ron would have thought she was dead. His throat constricted. No. Not dead. Not yet. Please, not yet.

His hands clenched into fists and his eyes stung as he struggled to hold the tears that threatened to fall.

_Won't cry. She's not dead, so I won't cry. She'll be fine so there's not point in crying. Don't cry. _

He blinked furiously andsoon became aware of a hand resting on his shoulder. Ron looked up at the Headmaster with stinging eyes.

"She's fine?" he croaked.

"Yes, Ron. She's fine."

And that was enough.

* * *

Hours passed and the moon began to fade as the sky took on a rosy hue.

"Headmaster? Miss Granger is waking."

Dumbledore nodded and stood. Ron raised his head from his hands and bolted to Hermione's bed. Ginny, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, scrambled after him.

Hermione groaned and her eyes fluttered open. Faces swam before her and she blinked to clear her vision.

"Ron?"

"I'm here, Hermione. Right here," Ron said moving closer to her. She turned her head to face him. He looked horrible. His hair was a mess and dark circles shaded his eyes.

"You need sleep," she remarked.

Ron laughed weakly, relief etched over his features.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that."

She sat up and glanced around the room.

"Where's Harry?"

"He's still in bed. He hasn't gotten up yet," Ginny said.

Hermione nodded.

"Is he alright?"

"He is just fine, Miss Granger," Dumbledore spoke up.

Hermione turned to look at the foot of her bed and the Headmaster smiled kindly down at her. "You gave us quite a scare, Miss Granger." And with those words the events of the evening all came rushing back to her, leaving her breathless and pale. She brought a hand up to her head.

"Oh Merlin, Professor I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to try and hurt-"

"Clearly things were out of your control, Hermione. There is no need to apologize."

"I'm so sorry Professor. I tried to tell you. I really did."

Dumbledore raised a hand and smiled understandingly at her. "Ron has told me everything. I have long feared that Voldemort was Dream Walking, and your friends have confirmed my suspicions."

"Here, child. Drink this. It will calm you down." Madame Pomfrey handed her a cup and she accepted it with shaking hands. The sweet liquid slid down her throat and spread warmth in her belly.

"Now I understand that you are tired and have been through a great ordeal, but I need you to tell me what you were dreaming. Try not to leave anything out," Dumbledore said gently with his hands folded in front of him.

"Headmaster, don't you think that this could wait?"

"Please, Poppy, it would be much better if Miss Granger were to say everything now so she can get some rest. Now please, Miss Granger, tell me. What did you see?"

Ginny took Hermione's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She looked up at the many faces that gazed down at her. Ron gave her a fleeting smile, but his forehead was creased in worry and his eyes held a tinge of intrigue that he wasn't able to hide. Dumbledore stood passively and waited for Hermione to speak. With a soft clucking sound Madame Pomfrey left to check on Harry.

Hermione braced her hands on the bed and pushed herself up to a seating position. Ginny adjusted her pillows and Hermione took a deep breath. What _had _she dreamt about?

Flashes of Emma sitting on the floor with Orla's head in her lap; the air ridden with chunks of marble as jets of red shot through columns and sliced through walls; hands that weren't her own grasping a wand and pointing it desperately at the rushing Death Eaters; a girl named Adel, barely 13, arms caked with blood that wasn't hers; memories of an 11 year old child's life playing before her eyes. "Hurry," she had said before her body was wrecked with spasms Hermione couldn't feel.

"I was in her head. I was seeing everything through Petra's eyes," Hermione croaked. Ginny offered her a glass of water, but Hermione shook her head in refusal. "I know where they are. I know what he's doing to them." Her throat constricted and her hands trembled.

Orla and Emma, Adel, and Petra. Fourteen, thirteen, and eleven. The rest of the girls before them Hermione didn't know, but their names, ages and faces ran through her mind in wisps of memory that she knew was not her own.

She raised her eyes to look at Dumbledore and said in a shaking whisper, "They're so young."

"But they have courage that surpasses their age," Dumbledore said.

Hermione looked at him silently. She brought a hand up to the ring that dangled around her neck.

"I couldn't control her movements or her thoughts. I was just a spectator."

"What did you see?" Dumbledore implored.

Hermione refused to look at Ron and Ginny and focused her gaze on a spot at the bed. "Petra was chained…" Hermione started and once she began her retelling she found that she couldn't stop. When she was finished she finally glanced up to look at those surrounding her. Ginny stared at Hermione with widened eyes and Ron's face was a white sheet.

"Did the transfer of memories occur immediately after the spell hit Petra, or did anything happen before that?" Dumbledore asked.

"It happened straight after, professor."

"And you did not feel anything?"

"No, not a thing, professor. What happened?"

"A reversal. It was a common occurrence within Dream Walking. The Brothers knew how to trigger it as well as prevent it, but Voldemort of course isn't performing this act accordingly, therefore the host and the source, being you Miss Granger and Miss Manalo were able to connect on a certain level."

"Is this a good thing, professor?" Ginny asked.

"Regarding the circumstances, yes it is, Miss Weasley. With the reversal Miss Granger was able to communicate with Miss Manalo and exchange important information." He looked thoughtful for a moment before asking, "Miss Granger, did Harry give you anything before you fell asleep?"

Hermione looked puzzled for a moment. "Why, yes. He found me a book and a…rose. Oh dear. Oh Harry, how could you?"

"What? What did he do?" Ron asked.

"It seems Harry has been doing a bit of research on his own time as well," Dumbledore mused.

"I don't understand," Ginny murmured.

"As I have told you earlier, the reversal was a common occurrence in the Dream Walking process. A reversal as strong as the one Miss Granger and Miss Manalo experienced however could only come to pass through a certain spell. The subject must ingest, or in Miss Granger's case, inhale particles of the potion that was sprinkled onto the object."

"So Harry made the potion and sprinkled the stuff on the flower he gave to Hermione?"

"So it would seem."

Ron glanced at Hermione, bewildered and noticed her cheeks flushed in anger. He could only guess how Harry had managed to get his hands on the ingredients. He cast a wary eye up at Dumbledore but the old man only twiddled his thumbs and glanced at the ceiling.

Ginny swallowed a yawn and Dumbledore looked down at her with a warm smile.

"Well, it's quite late and Miss Granger needs her rest."

"To be honest, after tonight I don't think I ever want to sleep again."

Dumbledore smiled sadly at her comment. "But we all must face our demons, Miss Granger, no matter how terrifying they are."

Hermione opened her mouth then shut it. She looked up at Dumbledore, opened her mouth, and shut it once more, shifting her gaze to her clasped hands. She fleetingly glanced up at Ron with eyes shining with worry. "So I…" she swallowed the lump in her throat. "I didn't hurt anyone?" she said in a quiet voice.

She looked up at Ron as if pleading for a sign, for some aspect of comfort from his frozen form. Yet he just stood there, rooted to the spot, his throat dry. He didn't know what to say; all he could see and all he could hear was Hermione smirking. Hermione winking; Hermione standing, feet planted firmly on the ground, wand raised; Hermione raising the cup in the air thanking Dumbledore for the tea. No. None of that wasn't Hermione. It wasn't her. It was _Him. _Knowing this made him want to throw up, hide in a corner and wring someone's neck.

Ron was mildly aware of a voice, sounding much like Harry's, repeating something. A steady mantra berating him for his insensitivity and carelessness.

_Say something you idiot! Say something! _

"N-No. No. You didn't hurt anyone. We're fine," he managed to croak.

The voice continued to shout at him, telling him to hold her, rub her back, clutch her hand, but his body didn't react. It couldn't.

So Ginny took it upon herself to give the comfort that Ron couldn't seem to provide. She took her hand and smiled, somewhat weakly, but encouragingly at her and said, "We're safe for the moment, love. He's gone, so don't you worry. Everything's going to be alright."

She sounded oddly like their mother.

Ron's mouth almost twitched into a smile at the thought. Almost. Instead he managed to nod mutely, and tried with all his might to pour what comfort he could give her through his eyes. Somehow, Hermione could sense it and she nodded at him.

Dumbledore turned to Ron and Ginny. "And I believe that it is time for the two of you to go back in your dormitories."

"What about Harry?"

"He needs his rest, and I will stay by his side until he awakens."

Ron hesitated at Hermione's bedside.

"It's alright, Ron. I'll see you two in the morning, goodnight."

"Right. Goodnight Hermione. Night, professor," Ron said.

Ginny said her farewells and with a final worried glance at Harry's bed she followed her brother out the door.

"We've got to find out who's next, professor."

"We will have plenty of time to think of that after you have a good night's sleep, Miss Granger."

"I promised Petra I'd come back for them."

"And I swear you that I will do everything in my power to ensure that you keep that promise."

Somewhat satisfied with his answer Hermione nodded, settled onto her pillows and turned on her side. She watched Madame Pomfrey pull aside the curtains around Harry's bed and she breathed out a sigh as Harry came into her view. He was sleeping peacefully now.

Madame Pomfrey headed over to her bed. "Drink this, dear. It will give you a dreamless sleep."

Hermione gratefully took the cup in her hands and once she was finished she settled back onto the bed, her eyes never leaving Harry's form.

Soon fatigue overwhelmed her and her eyes drooped. She felt lightheaded and her surroundings dimmed as her body began to relax. Her mind stopped spinning and grew hazy.

She was mildly aware of a deep voice wishing her goodnight, and she felt someone pull the covers up to her chin. She smiled sleepily in thanks and with a murmured "Goodnight, dad," she shut her eyes and fell into a deep and thankfully dreamless sleep.

A sad smile clung to Dumbledore's face as he looked down at her. With hands clasped behind his back, and an acknowledged bob of the head to Madame Pomfrey, he walked to a chair by Harry's bedside and sat down.

* * *

"You had no right, Harry," Hermione said.

"I know. I'm sorry, but I was only trying to help," Harry said in a pained voice.

"And it only made matters worse."

"But we know where he's keeping them now, don't we?"

"He could move them, Harry."

Ron paused in the doorway to the infirmary. He had awoken to troubled nightmares and couldn't go back to sleep, so he had just lain in bed waiting for sunrise and wondering when would be a good time to go back down to the infirmary. Six thirty seemed to him to be the right time, and he had quickly changed and crept out of the boy's dormitory. Now the voices of his best friends reached his ears and his shoulders sagged in relief. They sounded well.

"Then we can try it again," Harry said resolutely.

"No it's too dangerous."

"I'll do it."

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry. You can't. He's not controlling you."

There was a pause and Ron inched into the room, not sure if now was the right moment to interrupt. _They could be…occupied. _He made a face.

Thankfully Harry spoke up again. "I'm not going to let Him take you, Hermione."

"But there's nothing you can do, Harry."

Another pause. Ron inched closer. Harry had said nothing, but Hermione must have clearly seen something on his face because suddenly she let out a vehement, "No."

"Hermione-"

"You absolutely will not, Harry."

"If I go now- if I finish this-"

"No, Harry! I said no. NO."

"You can't tell me what to do."

"You're right. I can't, but I can hex you to this bed and no one can stop me."

Ron could just picture the amused look that he knew was now plastered on Harry's features. _Oh, mate. Don't. You'll only make it worse. _

As if in answer to Ron's thoughts, Hermione said sternly, "Don't you dare smirk at me, Harry Potter. You don't believe me? Well I will do it. You move from this bed, you even mention or think of rushing out and playing the hero, and I will-"

_Oh just give her a kiss, mate. _

And sure enough, Hermione's speech was cut short and Ron almost laughed out loud. The silence went on for far too long though and as the minutes ticked away, Ron began to feel uncomfortable. He was contemplating on whether to clear his throat and make his presence known or leave when Harry's breathless voice reached his ears.

"If I had known that that could work, I would have done that the first time I had met you."

"And I would have been horrified, slapped you across the face, and fed you Trevor."

"Neville would've been crushed."

"Don't think Trevor would be too happy either," Ron muttered.

They didn't appear to have heard him though and Hermione said, "Hmm, yes. Then I guess you'd just have to settle for the slap then."

"That's no fun."

Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "How I ever got involved with you is beyond me."

"I think it's my irresistible charm and dashing good looks."

Ron held back a guffaw.

"And your modesty too, I gather," Hermione said dryly.

There was a sound of rustling sheets. Ron's ears grew red and he shifted his feet, glancing out the door.

"You still mad at me?" Harry asked.

"I suppose not. I just wish you would have told me what you were planning to do. I would have been more prepared."

"I know, love. I wasn't thinking clearly and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

There was a moment of silence and feeling foolish for spying on his best friends, Ron walked from the middle of the room to the curtains that encased Harry's bed.

"Harry?"

Ron froze.

"Yeah?"

"Promise me you won't go."

Pause.

"Go where?"

"Don't be daft, you know where. You are not going to face Voldemort alone."

"In the end, I'll have to be alone, love."

"Alright, promise me you won't go to him without us."

"Hermione-"

"No. Harry. You're going to promise me that you won't be stupid and go off on your own. When you do face him we'll be there."

"But you could get hurt."

"I think it's a little too late for that now."

Something inside Ron clenched painfully at those words and he heard Harry sigh heavily.

"It's all my fault. If I've never met you then-"

"That horrid troll would have gotten to me and I'd be just another Moaning Myrtle. Now enough of that nonsense. Thinking like that isn't going to get us anywhere, Harry. You've met us and we love you and we're not going to let you go. So I want you to stop with all of that 'my fault' rubbish. You're only wasting time that could be spent doing something productive."

Ron took this moment to step forward and pull the curtains aside saying, "She's right you know." Harry and Hermione looked up at him and their faces brightened in greeting. Ron turned his attention to Hermione and continued, "But you could've been quick about it and said, 'Shut it, you're being stupid.'"

"Got the emotional range of a teaspoon, right Ron?" Harry said dryly.

"I'd like to think of it as more of a matchbox, but we wouldn't want to upset Miss Head Girl, right?"

"Good morning, Ron," Hermione said from her perch on the chair beside Harry's bed.

Ron grinned. "Morning." He took a seat on the chair at Harry's right. "Good to see you awake, mate. Gave us quite a scare last night, what with you screaming and all."

"Yeah, er, sorry."

"What Ron means to say is," Hermione gave Ron a shrewd look and smiled gently at Harry. "Are you feeling better?"

"I'm a bit tired, but other than that, I'm fine."

"Did you talk to Dumbledore?" Ron asked.

"Yeah. Woke up in the middle of the night and we had a talk."

"And..er..did he tell you about…erm," Ron trailed off, and cast an anxious glance at Hermione who suddenly looked uncomfortable and avoided their gazes.

Hermione could feel Harry's eyes burning into her, but she dared not look at him.

"Yeah," Harry croaked. "Yeah he told me."

Hermione took a breath and looked up; her mock indifference didn't fool them. "Let's not talk about that right now."

"Hermione-"

"Please. Harry. Please, not right now."

Harry's jaw clenched and she met his helpless gaze, took his hand and squeezed it. Ron was forgotten and he squirmed in his seat, eyes focused on the dirt under his fingernails.

"I'm fine," she said gently.

When he didn't answer and only stared at her with hardened eyes, she affectionately brought her hand to his cheek. Harry leaned into her touch and sighed.

"Please stop worrying about me, Harry. I'm alright. I'm myself now."

"And what about later?" he managed to whisper while bringing a hand to rest on the back of her neck, pulling her towards him and pressing his forehead against hers.

"Later doesn't matter. What matters is now. I'm better _now._"

"I can't lose you."

"You'll never lose me."

There was a moment of silence in which they continued to stare at each other and Ron continued to squirm uncomfortably in his seat; his ears beet red.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and said, "Erm, sorry to interrupt, but er…I'm still here."

They sprang apart immediately; both red with embarrassment.

"Oh Ron," Hermione managed to stammer, but Ron cut her off with a smile and a gentle,

"S'okay."

They grew silent and Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "So..erm.."

"Yeah, I'm ready to talk about it." They looked at Harry and waited for him to continue. "I was stupid and I thought I could help Hermione by using the reversing spell."

"How'd you get the ingredients?"

At a sharp look from Hermione, Harry held up his hands in defense and said, "No I didn't take them from Snape."

Ron looked disappointed, which earned him a glare from Hermione.

"Anyway, I got them each time we had Potions. The ingredients were simple actually, and I managed to sneak some of my share out of the dungeons each class."

There was a disapproving sniff from Hermione, but Harry pretended he didn't hear it and continued, "I thought I was helping and I know I should have told you, Hermione and I'm sorry." Hermione said not a word so Harry continued.

"Last night I dreamt I was the snake again and I saw everything that happened. Adel had two Death Eaters guarding her and she managed to get one to go into the room she was in. There was a shout. The other Death Eater raced through the doors and I got a look at the mess she made in the room. She, er," he swallowed and his voice grew quiet as the picture of what he saw splashed in his mind's eye. "she somehow got his dagger and, erm, stabbed him over and over again."

Ron blanched and Hermione gasped, looking horrified..

"The other Death Eater ran into the room, but Adel stunned him with the first Death Eater's wand and ran, and…well…you both know the rest."

The silence in the room was deafening. Ron swallowed audibly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Blimey," he whispered to himself and looked at Harry who was avoiding his eyes. "You said last night that she was dead…so…so does that mean You – Know - Who…"

"No," Hermione answered with a shake of her head. "He can't afford to just kill her when he needs her blood for the spell to continue. She must be hurt pretty badly, but she isn't dead."

"How do you know?" Harry asked.

"Well…last night, Voldemort did say that Adel is still alive."

Ron looked uncomfortable and Harry's face darkened. He didn't like the idea of the Dark Lord even thinking of his friends let alone controlling them.

"And how do you know that Voldemort's not lying?" Harry asked.

"I just do."

"You were never one for Divination, Hermione," Ron said, but she didn't answer him and only cast her eyes at the foot of Harry's bed.

Silence swallowed them once more.

"Alright, enough of this." Ron suddenly stood. "Yeah it's depressing, but I'm not gonna let us wallow in misery for the rest of the year. We're gonna save them, Harry's gonna squash You- Know -Who, and we're gonna graduate and live until we're old and wrinkly and smell like cabbage."

"Cabbage? Why cabbage?" Harry asked smiling in amusement.

Ron shrugged. "First thing that came to mind."

"Bananas are better."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, no thank you. Bananas remind me of the medicine my doctor made me take when I had the flu as a child."

"A muggle doctor made you drink bananas?"

"No, the medicine tasted like bananas. It was horrid."

"How about strawberries, then?" said Ron.

"Strawberries? What old person smells like strawberries?"

"A really nice smelling old person?" Harry offered.

"I think I've got a great aunt on my mum's side that smells like lemons."

"Lemons? What on earth does that have to do with strawberries?" said Hermione.

"Dunno, but all this talk is making me hungry," said Harry.

"Reckon they should be serving breakfast now, right?"

"Yes, they should be."

"Well then, what're we doin' here? Let's go."

"We should wait for Madame Pomfrey to check on Harry first."

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, he's great. Come on then, I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry."

"Yeah, can't help that though, can I?"

"Miss Granger! Mr. Weasley!"

Three heads shot in the direction of the woman standing by the now open curtains.

"Erm, hi."

"What are you two doing out of bed? And at this hour in the morning?" she asked sternly.

"Well, erm, it's nearly seven."

"Mr. Potter, needs his rest-"

"I'm fine."

"And you Miss Granger, you have been through a terrible ordeal, why are you out of bed?"

"I…I was just-"

"Sapping your strength and taking Mr. Potter down with you, I gather."

"Really, I feel fine-"

"None of that. Let me have a look at the both of you." With that she took Harry's head in her hands and looked him over. When she was finished, she moved onto Hermione and finally to Ron, giving him a stern look. His ears reddened.

"Well, you two seem to be alright. Just remember to get plenty of rest."

"We will, Madame Pomfrey and thank you," Hermione said, rising from her perch on the chair and leading the way out. Ron and Harry were quickly at her heels and out the door.

* * *

The Great Hall was scattered with sleepy students; some with their heads buried in a book; others mechanically shoveling food into their mouths; all were blinking sleepily.

"Morning," said Dean after he yawned loudly.

"You're up early," said Harry, taking a seat across from him.

"Yeah, I gotta finish filling out these forms before anyone comes in," Dean said. He eyed the bowl of apples and after much debate, chose a juicy red one, which he bit into with relish.

"Is that for anything Post Hogwarts?"

"Nah, I've already sent in those. This is for the Stenheir feast at Hogsmead. Gotta get myself a costume if I wanna go."

Hermione paused while buttering her toast, before straightening and saying, "The Stenheir? But Professor Dumbledore said we're not allowed to go."

Dean flushed before downing his glass of pumpkin juice and picking up his quill. "I know, but Seamus said he found another passage leading into Hogsmead, and well, it's the Stenheir feast, Hermione. Happens only once every four years. I'm not gonna pass this up."

"I could report you," she said, eyeing his form.

"But she won't since we'll be going as well," said Ron, piling food onto his plate.

"What?"

"Oh come on, Hermione. It's my birthday that day and it would smashing if we'd celebrate it at the Stenheir!"

"Lower your voice, Ron," she said casting furtive glances around the nearly empty room.

"We are not going to the feast. We could get caught."

"Under the cloak, we won't." Harry muttered loud enough for only Hermione and Ron to hear.

Hermione glanced at Dean, who seemed to be too busy with his forms. "Harry, what if we're seen? Professor Dumbledore said that students are not allowed to go."

"It's our last year here, Hermione. We might not get another chance to go."

"And we'll have masks on, so even if we do pass by a teacher at the festival, they won't even recognize us," Ron said, but Hermione looked unconvinced.

"And where do you think we are going to get our masks from?" Hermione said, eyeing Ron with a raised eyebrow. "Erm..." Ron's eyes darted for a moment before deciding that the best answer to give was a mouth full of pie. Hermione harrumphed.

"Come on, Hermione. It'll be fun," Harry said in between forkfuls of scrambled eggs.

Ginny approached the table and took a seat by them. "Morning," she yawned. "Oh, Dean, is that an order for a costume?" Dean looked up and cast worried glances around him, then nodded. "Well, you better finish up quickly. People are starting to come in."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Is that wise? I mean, filling out those forms here in the Great Hall where Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore can see? If I were you, I'd have done that ages ago, or at least completed them in my dormitory," Hermione said with a sniff.

Dean look over at the Teacher's table, but Snape seemed too involved with his porridge and Flitwick and Wellington were partaking in a deep discussion about something or other. Dean shrugged in answer and went back to his forms, but he was now hunched over them and scribbling furiously.

"Are you two feeling any better?" Ginny asked, taking Hermione's mind off Dean's disobedience for the moment.

"Much better, thanks."

"Great. So are you going?"

"Going where?" Hermione asked.

Ginny nodded her head at Dean and his forms. "To the festival at Hogsmead."

"Of course we are, aren't we Hermione?" At a shake of her head, Ron looked indignant and continued, "But everyone's going!"

"Nonsense, Ron. Dean and Seamus aren't 'everyone'. Besides, it's after hours and there'll be plenty of teachers roaming the halls, and the prefects, and the Head Boy and not to mention me."

"Yeah but as soon as you're done your rounds you'll take off right?"

"Absolutely not."

"So that's a yes."

"Go on, Hermione. It's our last year," Dean said getting up and shuffling his papers.

"All the more reason to not go! Anyway, we don't even have any costumes and it's probably too late to get a form."

"That isn't a problem," Ginny said casting a glance at the entrance. "Luckily for you I know someone who can provide them for you." She ignored the glare of death Hermione shot in her direction and spread marmalade on her toast.

Ron chewed his bacon and eyed Ginny shrewdly. "Who?"

"That is none of your business. All you need to know is that you're going."

"Ginny, I really don't think that this is a good-"

"It's a wonderful idea, Hermione. It will be fun, and you of all people need to have fun these days."

Hermione eyed her in silence.

"So it's settled then?" Harry said.

Hermione was silent for a while and the noise in the Great Hall escalated as more people began to fill it. "Fine. Ginny are you sure your source has no problems providing the costumes?"

Ginny's eyes glinted in mirth and she grinned. "Oh, my source won't have any trouble at all."

"Who is it?" Ron asked.

"It's not important."

"Sure it is. I want to know where I'm getting the costume from."

"You're getting it from me."

"Don't be daft, Gin. Who is it?"

Ginny only sniffed and finished her toast.

Ron's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "He's not a shady character, is he?"

. "A _shady character?_" Ginny snorted, but Ron continued to look at her sternly and immediately the mirth faded from her features. "Of course, Ron. How did you guess? He's an older man I met randomly on the street during one of my crack binges. Promised me a flat and some candy if I bought some of his costumes."

"Ginny. This isn't a joke."

"And I'm not joking."

Harry started to laugh and Ginny shot him a glare that shut him up. Ron looked at her incredulously and she calmly finished her juice, set her glass on the table and met his stare with a one of her own.

"Relax. He's reliable and goes to Hogwarts-"

"_He_!"

Ginny ignored his outburst. "You're getting the costumes and you're going to Stenheir. That's all you need to know," she said, and gathered her things and got up.

Hermione followed her out of the Great Hall and Ron stood and called after them, "Who is he!" But Ginny only waved him off and they left.

"Are you sure Draco will want to get the costumes for us?" Hermione said as Ginny followed her to the common room.

"No. But don't worry. I'll make him get them."

Hermione laughed.

When they finally reached the Fat Lady, Ginny said the password and they climbed through the portrait hole.

"I'll only be a minute," Hermione said.

"Sure," Ginny nodded and headed over to one of the tables to chat with one her friends.

Hermione headed up the stairs and brought a hand to the doorknob of her dorm.

"Morning!" a cheery voice called out.

Hermione paused and turned. She smiled and greeted Eran Lot with a smile. "Good morning. Have you been to the Great Hall yet?"

"No. I've just gotten up actually."

"Well, it's still early."

"Yeah. I have to go to the library first though, but I think I'll just skive off first class. I have Professor Binns anyway," Eran said.

Hermione frowned. "I suggest that you don't. I know he's incredibly boring, but Professor Binns does know a lot. And you never know, he might say something important," she said, but Eran snorted.

"Yeah, I guess. Well I'm starving. I'll see you later."

"Bye."

Hermione managed to open the door a crack before Eran paused by the stairs and said, "Hey, did you ever manage to find that book you were looking for?"

Hermione blinked. She had forgotten that Eran was there in the Restricted Section with her. In fact, she had seen the title on the scrap of parchment Hermione had written the title on.

"No. It was lost."

"Oh. That's a shame."

Hermione nodded in agreement and turned to walk into the room.

"Do you know who borrowed it last?" Eran said.

"Actually, no I don't. Madam Pince told me that was confidential."

"Well, if you're desperate you could always sneak into the library and take a gander at her checking book."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Her checking book. You know, the one behind her desk?"

"I know what a checking book is. What I mean, is how do you know about it?"

"Oh, I've never looked at it myself, but like I said, if you're desperate. Or curious. Bye!" And with a wave and fleeting smile, she disappeared down the stairs.

"Eran!"

* * *

Hermione walked down the landing, but Eran was gone and the portrait swinging closed signaled her exit. Hermione sighed and went into her dorm to change.

"We're going."

"No we are not."

"Hermione, it's easy. We use the cloak, go behind her desk, look through it and we'll know who has the book."

"But it's against the rules, Harry."

"For once, will you just forget about your Head Girl duties and think of what's important?"

Hermione lifted her chin in defiance. "This isn't the only way." With a flick of her wand. she sent the ball whizzing in the air to land on the cushion that zoomed around the room.

Flitwick let out a squeal of delight and encouraged his students to perform the same feat Miss Hermione Granger accomplished just now.

Ron grumbled and sent his ball into the air, missing the moving target and managing to hit Seamus square in the face. "Sorry, mate!" he called out then edged closer to Harry and Hermione. "Okay, listen. This book could be the only way we find out how to reverse the spell properly when we meet You – Know- Who-"

"Could. Ron. This book _could _be the only way. There could be other books out there that have the answer. We just have to look for it!"

"But that could take ages, whereas this could take a couple of days, or hours if we're lucky."

"If we're caught, we could get expelled!"

"We won't," Harry said, sending his ball ricocheting off the wall and narrowly missing an oblivious professor Flitwick. Harry winced. "We'll have the cloak."

"There has to be some charm locking it, Harry. Madame Pince won't just leave it unprotected."

"It's a book!" Ron said.

"A checking book, Ron. She's not going to leave it."

"We'll take the chance. How's tonight? After Quidditch practice? Meet us in the Room of Requirement," said Harry.

"What about my rounds?"

"Do them, and meet us when you're done," said Harry.

"What if someone sees us?"

"Hope we don't get expelled," Ron said jokingly, but Hermione gave him a sharp look. "We won't get caught," he assured her. "Just think of this as if we're knicking food from the kitchens."

"Well that's not exactly hard, is it?"

"My point exactly," Ron said, and as if it was a sign for their good luck, his ball zoomed across the room and landed deftly onto the swiftly moving target.

"Oh bravo, Mr. Weasley!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed.

Ron's ears burned, but he smiled with pride.

* * *

Hermione was pacing. Where were they? How long could Quidditch practice be? She hoped that Ginny wasn't suspicious of anything. If she had he slightest inkling of what they were about to do, she would want to come for sure. And Hermione was not going to allow that.

She sighed and glanced at the door, silently willing Harry and Ron to open it and walk in. The door remained closed. Hermione continued to pace. Open books scattered the table, the couches, and several lay open on the floor. It had taken a while, but several books, wringing hands, and patient sighs later, she had found several spells that would help in unlocking the checking book. Now all she had to do was wait.

Hermione wished she had a nice hot cup of tea in her hands. Several butterbeers wouldn't hurt either.

The door opened.

Hermione froze.

The door shut.

She sighed.

"Quit it, you two. There's no time for games."

"You're no fun," said Ron slipping part of the cloak off him and Harry.

"You have the spell?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

"Okay, let's go then." And he lifted part of the cloak aside to make room for her.

Hermione moved in between them under the cloak and the boys crouched. Someone's knees cracked.

"Now why does this seem so familiar?"

"Shhh. Don't forget to close the door behind you, Harry. Move in Ron, there's plenty of room."

"Oh, right. Plenty for you of course."

Hobbling is an art.

One that the three of them managed to perfect, thank you very much.

What they didn't manage to achieve, however, was a seamless walk with the comfort of having no body parts jabbing sharply into their side. At the moment Ron Weasley was currently experiencing said body part jabbing into said side.

"Ow, Hermione, your elbows are digging into my ribs."

"Well they wouldn't be if you would just move a little."

"Right then, I'll just move over and out of your way then, 'cause I'm sure Snape wouldn't think a floating arm and leg isn't curious at all."

"Oh, honestly! There."

"Thank you."

"Quiet. Mrs. Norris is coming around that corner," Harry said.

Sure enough, Mrs. Norris turned the corner, stopped in her tracks and stared at the three of them.

"Think she can see us?" Harry asked.

"I'm not sure," Hermione said.

"Should I give her a good kick for luck?".

Hermione turned to glare at Harry.

"No, mate. Save it for the graduation feast."

"Ron!"

"Only joking, mum."

Before Hermione could open her mouth to say something, Mrs. Norris mewed and went on her way.

The three of them continued onward, walked into the library and headed to Madam Pince's desk.

"Where do you think it could be?" Harry asked.

"Check the drawers," Ron said tossing the cloak off of them and holding onto it.

"Lumos. Wait! Let me check them first. There could be an alarm on them," Hermione said.

"Spoken like a true thief," Ron said with a chuckle.

She gave him a fierce stare, knelt and tapped the key holes. They glowed bright green for a moment. Then all was well.

"All right?" asked Harry. She nodded. "Right then. Ron? Be ready with the cloak, I'll keep an eye on the map and Hermione, go on with the spells."

Hermione tapped the key holes once again and whispered the spell. She then placed her hand gingerly on the first drawer and pulled it open carefully. They held their breath. Nothing happened.

Harry grinned, handed Ron the map and moved beside Hermione to look in the drawers. There was nothing in the first two, but looking through the third: "Got it." Harry said and triumphantly pulled the heavy tome out and lay gently on the desk.

"Let me take care of this now, Harry."

"Right."

Hermione placed her wand over the book and muttered several spells. The lock snapped open.

"Brilliant," Ron whispered. They flipped through to the Restricted Section. "Who is it?" Ron asked.

"Hang on. I'm still looking. My goodness, I never thought so many people would take out these books." She continued to scan the names.

"Did you find it?"

"Not yet."

"How's the map?" Harry asked Ron.

"We're fine."

"Found it!"

"Who?"

"It's a Slytherin."

"I knew it!" Ron said. "Malfoy must have taken it to his dorm or-"

"No."

"What?" Harry asked.

"It's not Malfoy."

"Who then?"

Hermione moved the book towards them and they leaned closer to look at the name scrawled on the page: Blaise Zabini

* * *

"Zabini? What would Zabini want with a book like that?" Ron asked after they climbed through the portrait hole and he threw himself onto an armchair by the fire.

"I think a more important question would be how we would get it from him," Harry said, lying down on the couch.

"That's if he still has it," Hermione said, settling onto an armchair and resting her hands folded comfortably on her lap.

"He has it. He's probably just too big of a git to return it," said Ron.

"Well we've gotta to find out if he has it, and how we'll take it," Harry said, the flames reflecting off his glasses as he stared solemnly at the fire still roaring in the hearth.

"Well, we can't use polyjuice. Too late for that now, isn't it? And the invisibility cloak won't work," said Ron, holding up Harry's cloak.

"We'll think of something," Hermione said swallowing a yawn.

Ron mimicked her and rubbed his eyes. "Well, I'm off to bed."

"I'll be up in a bit. Put my cloak in my trunk, will you?"

"Y-Y-Yeah," Ron yawned. "Sure. Night, Hermione."

"Goodnight Ron."

And he disappeared up the stairs.

Hermione yawned and blinked sleepily.

"Tired?" Harry asked.

She yawned in answer and smiled weakly at him. "I'm exhausted."

Harry inched over on the couch and motioned to her. "Come here."

She got up and Harry moved over to make room for her as she lay down and curled up beside him, one hand resting on his chest. Her head rested on his arm which wrapped around her; his fingers idly playing with her hair. His other arm encircled her waist and he pulled her closer.

She raised her eyes to look up at him with a small smile. He smiled back and brought a hand up to gently trace the curve of her cheek.

Leaning towards her he brushed his lips against her forehead, her nose, her cheek. He tilted her head up to place a feather light kiss on her chin, and she laughed. Harry chuckled and smiled brightly at her as he teasingly kissed the corner of her mouth gently.

She murmured his name.

His heart clenched in his chest and he was swallowed in her gaze.

She leaned forward, brought a hand up to rest on the back of his head; fingers delving into his untamed hair, and pulled him gently down towards her, catching his lips in a soft kiss; drowning in his scent.

Moments later she pulled away and settled comfortably against him. Bright green filled her vision.

With a sigh, he wrapped his arm around her waist once more and held her.

Caught in each other's gazes, they lay there.

Silent.

Content.

In love.


	16. Dead Leaves and Dirty Ground

Disclaimer: I am JK Rowling, and I rule all! How I wish this were true. Oh, and the title is from a White Stripes song.

A/N: I give you all permission to form your fingers into the shape of a gun and send telepathic bullets in my general direction. Why? You ask? Well first of all you're asking this question then forget I said anything. I know I took ages to have this itty bitty one out. No excuses this time. Nothing. I actually decided to take a little time off from the fanfiction world and I started on my own stuff. Then I stumbled on a few bookmarked stories on portkey (TheBlackPearl's and Donovan Potter's stuff), a story on ffnet (Annaleah's 'Tell me how you really feel'), watched a couple movies, heard some songs here and there, and had a stimulating conversation with a random professor I met on the subway about who would win in a cage match to the death: Wolverine or Batman. I became inspired. So here's the outcome of all that. Actually, there's much more, I just decided to divide it into two chapters. Just sprucing up ch. 17 so that should be up in a bit.

All of your reviews are uplifting and inspiring. Oh, and I must mention that this and the following chapter (which will be up real soon) are here because of one author and two reviewers: Annaleah, Adalee Bishop, and hitomi-chan. So thank you to the three of you.

And on with the show:

* * *

There was a scratching sound and a small burst of flame sprang to life, piercing the pitch-black room. Taking a candle in one hand, she fed the light to the wick and watched as it caught flame. Emma Dobbs brought the candle closer to the group huddled in the corner of the small room that served as their prison. She set the candle by Petra's side and took Orla's head onto her lap once more. The girl appeared to be sleeping. Her breaths were faint, but her eyes were shut. Her injured arm lay unmoving at her side.

Emma brushed her hair out of her eyes with a huff and looked at the youngest of them treating 'the stupid one'. She called Adel the stupid one, for many reasons. The first could easily be spotted just by looking at the girl, whose shallow breaths were steadily becoming deep with each intake, and whose arms, caked with blood, now and then clutched Petra's robes in an effort to still the pain flashing through her. Adel's chattering teeth clenched once more in a sign that yet another wave was slicing through her innards.

"Try to keep still, Adel. I know it hurts, but I can't help you if you don't keep still," Petra said, bringing a hand to the girl's forehead.

How Petra could sooth the young Hufflepuff without magic's aide was beyond Emma. The girl couldn't even heal her own scrapes and bruises, and she too looked a right mess, what with her torn clothing, her slightly bruised features and the small bump on her head from her fall when the Cruciatus had taken her. But she seemed to be faring all right.

Adel was also hit by the Cruciatus just moments before Petra, but she continued to shake and whimper and clench her teeth in the aftermath. Emma felt a stirring in her chest as she looked at Petra hovering over the whimpering Adel. Petra was much younger, far more inexperienced and not to mention the first one taken, and yet it was she, not Adel the nice Hufflepuff and surely not Orla the wise Ravenclaw, who was taking care of them.

_Gryffindor courage at it's finest. _

Adel looked as if the pain was finally subsiding. Her body slowly relaxed and she rested her head, which was pillowed on Emma's bundled robes, with her eyes staring at the ceiling; her lips parted. Her chest rose and fell as she gulped in air.

"That's it, just relax, dear. The air will come," Petra whispered; wringing a scrap of her torn robes soaked in water. She placed the cool cloth on Adel's forehead.

"Is she going to be okay?" Emma asked her.

Petra looked up and opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say a word, Adel croaked, "I'm not dead, you know. I can hear you, and yes. I'm fine."

Emma stared at the girl just a year her junior and a corner of her mouth twitched in amusement. Well, if she wasn't a Gryffindor she was at least, for the moment, acting like one. And if her lip didn't show it then surely her blind stupidity masking as courage had to earn her some points.

Still, Emma had to hand it to the Adel as she watched her choke down a sip of water: the girl had balls. Big enough to not only kill one of Them, but also to risk her neck to come back. Emma chewed her lip as a single thought crossed her mind, making her chin lift in shame. She pushed the thought away, but it was already stamped in her mind and singed into her memory.

_If it had been me; if I'd been in her place, would I have done the same? Would I have come back? _

It wasn't a thought she wanted to dwell on, and the answer to it made her clench her teeth in denial. She took a steadying breath.

"You should have been a Gryffindor," Emma heard herself say.

Adel twisted her head to look back at her; silver glinting in the dim firelight. "The sorting hat thought so too, but I preferred Hufflepuff."

"Never thought I'd hear anyone say that," the words came out of Emma's mouth before she could stop herself.

Adel tried to straighten with much difficulty, ignoring Petra fussing to hold her down. "And what's wrong with Hufflepuff?" Adel asked with flaring eyes.

_Don't answer. Just leave it. _"Nothing. Nothing…well it's just that kids aren't exactly hoping to be in that house," Emma said, ignoring her conscience completely.

Silver held brown

"_I _did."

Brown met silver.

"Then I guess you're an exception."

Emma winced inwardly at her words, but it was too late to take them back. There was nothing for it now. The damage was done.

Adel flushed pink and she opened her mouth, but Petra quickly stepped in, saying, "Piss off the both of you. I'm tired of your bickering. Ever since we've been here, all you two have done was glare or argue and I've had enough."

Emma's chest puffed out and her nostrils flared in surprise. "Who are you to tell me what to do? I'm a fourth year, and you're only a firstie."

Adel made an indignant sound in Petra's defence, but Petra held up a hand and looked at Emma in a calm manner. "You know what?" she said in a silky voice. "You're right. I am only a first year, and yes that would have mattered if we were still at Hogwarts. But guess what, Dobbs? We're bloody well not!"

Orla's hand twitched and she shifted slightly with a grimace. Emma glanced down at her briefly, but seeing that the girl had not opened her eyes, she looked back up at Petra and crossed her arms over her chest.

Adel had a satisfied smile on her face, but Petra turned to her and swiftly made her wipe it off saying, "And don't you go looking all self righteous Adel, you're just as in the wrong as Emma here." Adel's face fell. Petra continued, "I want you both to look around us. Just look at where we bleeding are. Do our years matter any more? Are our Houses even significant in a place like this? Well?"

There were mumbled "No's" and shaking of heads. Orla grinded her teeth in her sleep and frowned.

Petra continued, "That's right. They don't. So I want all of this 'my House is better than yours' nonsense to stop. If we don't stop arguing, if we don't work together then none of us will make it out here alive."

"How are you so sure anyone will come?" Adel asked.

"Because Hermione Granger told me. Dumbledore is looking for us. Something happened back there, and it caused Hermione to get into my head somehow. She told me why they're doing this to us." Petra had now managed to grasp their attention fully.

"What did she say?"

"You-Know-Who is after Harry Potter and He's getting him through Hermione, which means he's getting her through us."

The girls looked at her in a mixture of shock and horror.

"There's something in our blood that connects us…" and she explained everything that Hermione had shown her. When she was finished, Adel's eyes were wide and Emma's face was stone.

"How do you know they'll come? What if they don't win?" Emma said.

Petra shook her head. "There's no point in thinking, 'what if'. We're only wasting our time worrying about what's to come. I know it's hard not to worry, but we have to try not to. We will get out of this, and if they don't come- and they _will_- then we'll just have to find a way out ourselves."

"You're mad. Us? Against the Y-You-Know-Who?"

"We have to try. If we don't," Petra paused and swallowed. "Then we die."

Adel stiffened and Emma looked at Petra with something that looked like respect in her eyes.

Petra pushed herself up on her hands and grabbed the bowl of water they had. "Wake Orla, Emma. She's gotta eat."

"Right."

Emma nodded and promptly began to gently shake Orla awake, whispering her name. Orla didn't open her eyes, and her body moved limply as Emma's gentle shake grew fierce and she grew frantic.

An overwhelming feeling of fear writhed in the pit of her stomach as she said her name. Louder. And louder still. Panic clutched her and she looked wildly at Adel and Petra saying, "She's not waking up. She's- she's not waking up!"

Petra rushed to her side. "Is she breathing?"

Emma bent and her heart started beating once more when she felt Orla's faint breath tickle her cheek. "Y-Yes! Oh, but it's faint."

Adel moved beside Petra and placed her hand on Orla's forehead. "She's burning up!" she said, scooting to the bowl and placing the damp cloth on Orla's forehead.

Petra was filled with dread. _Oh, please no. _She brought her hands to the crude bandage around Orla's arm. "Why didn't you say so before, Emma?"

"I-I-I didn't know. Honestly. I thought she was just hot and uncomfortable. It never occurred to me."

"Are you daft! Her temperature is shooting up! How could you not tell!" Adel shrieked, fear shaking her voice.

Petra bit her lip and her grimaced as a faint stench filled her sensitive nostrils. _Please let me wrong. _She thought, but the offending smell told her otherwise and so did the girls' reactions.

"Ugh! Oh that's horrid! What is that smell?" said Adel, covering her nose with a grimy hand.

"It's the gash in her arm," said Petra in a shaking voice.

The cut in Orla's arm had gone yellow and slimy with pus, and the smell filled the room, mingling with the stench of sweat.

"Oh, merlin! Wha- What happened? It…it didn't look like that before," Adel said.

"That's because it wasn't infected before," Petra said grimly.

"Infected?" Adel uttered in a scared whisper, her eyes bulging out of her head. "But…you can fix it, right? You said your mum was a medi-witch."

"A muggle doctor, but it's the same thing, and I can't fix it without the proper medicine. If we had our wands then maybe…" Her heart squeezed and her eyes darted helplessly around the room as her mind raced to think of a solution to this new problem; her breathing quickened as she slowly gave in to panic. "Emma!" Petra hissed, glaring at the girl. "Didn't you change her bandage?"

"With what? Scraps of our soiled robes? Our filthy shirts?"

"You could've at least bloody checked her!"

"Oh, so this is _my _fault now!" Emma said in a raised voice.

"If you had checked her, we probably could've done something!"

"Done what! Ask sodding You-Know-Who for a healing potion! And don't you dare go blaming this shit on me. I'm not a damned medi-witch!"

"You don't need to be a bleeding doctor! You need common sense, you-"

"Shut up, you two!" Adel shouted, causing the two to grow silent and glare at her. "Bloody Gryffindors and your hot heads. Can't you see that she's sick?" Adel continued.

Three heads cast worried looks down at the grimacing girl, whose head was on fire. Emma raised a hand and gently brushed Orla's hair back. "Wormtail," she said suddenly, and Petra and Adel's heads whipped up to look at her.

"What did you say?" Petra asked.

"Wormtail," Emma repeated. "We have to wait for Wormtail. As much as I hate to say it, we can't do anything now but sit and wait. He should come soon. In the meantime, we've got to make her comfortable."

"But all we've got is a bowl of water."

"Then we use it."

The three girls watched Orla in trepidation.

"What if she dies?" Adel whispered, breaking the thick silence that embraced them. The question hung in the air for a moment. None bothered to answer. None wanted to answer.

Beads of wax ran down the dwindling candle, and pooled around it. The small flame flickered in a steady rhythm, much like a heart struggling to beat.

* * *

Bile rose in the back of his throat and he struggled to swallow. "Please, master. I won't do it again, just please, master. I'll be good. I promise. I swear. Please… please." Wormtail could hear the unpleasant squeaking of Wallace Wilmbur's voice.

His eyes itched to shut tight and lock away the images of the Death Eater, huddled on the ground just paces away from a pile of torn cloak and shredded skin. The man's name was Desmond. He had an appetite for young girls.

All that incoherent moaning over his stab wounds from the child was nothing compared to the sharp scream that had escaped from his lips the moment he had felt his own skin start to slowly peel from his body. And it was in that moment Wormtail knew he would never sleep again.

"Please," the big man croaked from his position on the ground. His robes pooled around him and he had his face pressed against the floor slick with blood. "Please."

The Dark Lord looked down at him in disdain. His rage filled the room, thickening the air and causing Wormtail's insides to clench in suffocation. "Do you know, Wallace, can your diminutive mind even fathom the extent of how much work I have put into this procedure?"

Wallace was sobbing now. The scene was pathetic and very disturbing. Wormtail's eyes watered from the pressure of having to keep his eyes open, but he dared not close them. The Dark Lord had ordered him and the other Death Eaters not to.

"Please, master."

"And do you know, Wallace, that because of your stupidity, the old fool could be planning a counter attack as we speak. A year's worth of work and secrecy has gone down the drain in one fell swoop! And why? Because you and that idiot Desmond could not simply follow the rules that I have laid out."

"Master, my Lord, Desmond-"

"Is now dead! As will you be in a few short moments."

Wallace cried out in despair tried to throw himself at the Dark Lord's feet. With a sudden flick of Voldemort's wand, Wallace froze and his back straightened mechanically. His arms stuck to his sides and his chest heaved with each laborious breath.

The Dark Lord's steps thundered in their ears as he took to walking towards and around the kneeling man, who's frightened eyes darted to keep up with his master. His mouth hung open and his lips trembled.

Wormtail could see the beads of sweat dribbling down his face mingling with his salted shame. He wished for it to be over.

"Why, Wallace, are those tears I see?"

Wallace whimpered, but could not help the fresh batch that now stained his shining face.

"I'll have none of that. You know how I absolutely despise the thing."

If Wallace was capable of moving, then Wormtail was sure that the man's body would be shuddering violently.

"Weakness. That is what that is. And it was weak men that caused this disruption. Weak men are the reason why Hermione and Petra were capable of exchanging information that is now impossible to retrieve."

All Wallace could hope for now was a quick death, but those in the room knew that the doomed man would not be granted that reprieve.

"My Lord," Wallace called out in a half whisper, half shout, but whatever we was going to say died in his throat as he felt a sudden chill run up his spine.

_He _was standing right behind him, and Wallace shut his eyes when he heard the smooth voice.

"It was a mistake, you said."

Wallace felt the cold tip of a wand press against the back of his neck.

"It won't happen again, you said."

Like a cold caress, the wand traced up the thick column.

"Well, how am I to be sure, Wallace, that you won't fail me a second time? Or a third?"

The wand lazily ran back down.

"Tell me Wallace, how am I to know if your next _mistake _won't cause ANOTHER REVERSAL!"

Then the Death eater named Wallace screamed. It was one endless pitiful roar that burned into Wormtail's skull. He jumped at the sound and his eyes watered and stung. He glanced at the others around him. Some stared stonily at the horrific scene that splashed in their eyes. Others grit their teeth and swallowed the bubbling bile that rose in their throats. None moved. They did nothing but watch as one of their own died before them.

"MERCY!" Wallace managed to gurgle.

"Mercy?" the Dark Lord said almost laughingly, "There is no mercy. There are no mistakes, Wallace."

A fresh scream tore from the man's stained lips. Wormtail's steel fingers twitched, but it was nothing compared to Wallace's jerking hands and thrashing head; the only parts he was free to move.

It was hours before silence finally filled the room. Satisfied, Voldemort turned and with cold eyes he inspect his Death Eaters. They were pale and drenched in sweat, and he knew that some wanted to turn and expel the sick that churned inside their stomachs. However, they remained still. They did not move. Fear did that to a man.

His lips pressed into a thin line showing his approval, but they would not get off so easily. Slowly he rose what was left of Wallace's limp arm. A dozen pairs of eyes followed his gesture. They knew what was to come.

Abnormally long fingers delicately touched the mark on the forearm and with a word, every single Death Eater knew of his disproval.

Wormtail let out a hiss when the pain faded and his eyes focused on his master at the sound of his name.

"Wormtail, retrieve Miss Manalo from her room. I believe she is late for her appointment."

"Y-Yes, my Lord." Wormtail turned to go, crimson staining the ends of his robes. He paused and said, "Who shall we take for the blood?"

The Dark Lord waved his hand carelessly. "Surprise me. Oh and Wormtail? Young Orla is ill. Her arm is infected. It seems everyone has developed a sudden fondness for sharp pointed objects."

"You want me to heal her, my lord?"

"We still need her blood, you imbecile. Of course I want you to heal her. I want you to stay and mind her and in doing so, listen closely to what the children speak of. If a reversal were to ever happen again I want you to obtain the information from them. Make them trust you. Then bring word to me."

"Y-Yes, my lord."


	17. I’m finding it harder to be a gentleman

Disclaimer: All I have dibs on are those characters you don't recognize (petra, adel, marcus weber, Collins, Tyler Higgins, etc.)

A/N: As promised, here's the next chapter. Yeah, it's a long one and I was debating on whether or not if I should divide it into a third, but meh. Oh, and I must apologize if Hermione, Ginny or Wormtail come off OoC. I really didn't mean it. This is just my take on the kind of man Wormtail is. As for Gin, and Hermione, I just wanted some fun. Enjoy, and a drinks to those who have read and reviewed.

* * *

The man known as Wormtail was straining not to tremble. Marcus Weber smirked as he noticed this. 

"Marcus."

"Yes, my lord?"

"Follow him."

Weber bowed and followed the older man out of the room.

Once through the door, his shoulders relaxed and his breathing grew easy. He was never much for torture. That was often left to his partner Collins, if the situation ever called for it, and most often than naught, it did.

Marcus Weber trailed softy behind the shorter man whose bald head glinted in the pale light of the moonlit corridors. Weber was a man who prided himself in his intelligence. He was one of the first among his house to transform before the age requirement. He had not only graduated from Hogwarts, but also from three very prestigious post Hogwarts schools as well.

None of them however could ever satisfy his lust for knowledge until of course that one fateful night at the Malfoy ball. Only the very rich, very influential people were asked to attend. It was a great honour and of course ultimately a terrible bore. For one thing, none of the guests could hold a conversation with him that seemed even remotely intelligible.

Marcus had spent most of the night, drink in hand, and a polite smile plastered on his face whenever members of the ministry would approach him, often praising him for his work at the many schools he had attended. Some even offered him a job, to which he politely but firmly declined.

He never danced and he never exchanged any looks with any of the well dressed and finely shaped witches. For though Marcus was amply granted the gift of thought, he was exempted from the right amount of estrogen that would have blessed him with good looks a father would have been proud of. Thankfully, both his parents were dead, as they were no help to him in rising from the gutter.

It was during that night, he had met Lucius Malfoy. A man whose power was as great as his wealth.

"If I may have a word, Marcus."

"Of course."

The man had taken Marcus into a well furnished room well away from the nauseating guests. Lucius filled Marcus's glass and said, "You're a very intelligent wizard, Marcus."

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."

"Formalities aren't needed here."

"Very well then, Lucius. What is it that you wanted to discuss?"

"As I have said, you're a very intelligent man. My master has noticed your work and he approves."

At this, Marcus had quirked a thoughtful brow and thus allowing Lucius to continue, "He extends his welcome and bids you to meet him tonight."

"Tonight?" Marcus had repeated, somewhat caught off guard.

"Yes," Lucius had answered, smoothly downing the last of his drink.

"And if I refuse?"

"Believe me, Marcus. You will do no such thing."

He indeed did no such thing, and the first meeting with the Dark Lord that night had changed his life forever.

Now he wondered, as he always did, why his master would bother to employ an imbecile such as the man he followed at this moment. Granted, the Dark Lord had his reasons, and it was usually the stupid ones that fought the hardest, but this man, this Wormtail had done nothing of the sort. The Dark Lord never placed him in the front lines. Never had the man named Wormtail been on missions that required skill, strength, or intelligence.

For as long as Marcus had known him, Wormtail had never left the master's side. All that the Dark Lord ever used him for was surveillance, but even that was laughable. A rat! Really! The Dark Lord had many Death Eaters who could have easily done what the old, fumbling Wormtail was doing. Marcus knew exactly what the man was: a waste. He didn't know why the Dark Lord wouldn't just be rid of him.

Marcus looked the man up and down. His shoulders were stooped, his eyes were twitchy and he often scratched himself, much like his animagus form would do. The man was useless and yet the Dark Lord had rewarded his uselessness with a gift. The silver fingers of the hand twitched in what Marcus thought to be anticipation; he could only guess, for they did it often.

_It should be me. _He thought as he gazed at the man's hand grimly. The two of them approached the double doors that held the prisoners. _I should have that. I should be the Dark Lord__'s man. I should be the one who trails behind him, who oversees the procedures. I should be the one with the power. He doesn't deserve it. He doesn't even know the power that he holds; the power he is capable of wielding, the weak minded, snivelling rat of a man. _

"When we step into the room, I don't want you saying a word to any of 'em. Just take a girl and go. You already know how it works,"Wormtail said, breaking Marcus from his thoughts.

Marcus tore his hungry gaze from Wormtail's hand. "Don't think that I'll fall in line with words like that," he said with a laugh.

Marcus watched Wormtail pause in his step.

"The Dark Lord put me in charge."

"Really? And you think that because you're the nanny I have to bow and scrape to you?" Marcus leaned towards the man who was shaking slightly and said in a smooth voice, "Let me tell you something, Wormtail, I am not a man to be trifled with. I have ten times the amount of strength and skill than you do, and whatever experience you think you've had is rubbish compared to what _I _do and have done for my master. You're nothing but a nanny here, Wormtail. My master has no other use for you other than that. So don't jump if I decide to say a word or two to the poppets."

With that, Marcus smugly turned to one of the guards. He was about to order them to stand aside when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He suppressed a smile.

_Now let's see what that gift can do. _

He turned to see a rather heavily breathing shlump of a man, red in the face and trembling violently. The guards looked on in interest.

"S-see this?" Wormtail held up the silver hand that glinted dangerously in Marcus' hungry eyes.

"Yes."

"Good."

A flash of silver, a choking gag, and Marcus suddenly found it hard to breath. The hand grasped and held onto his neck. It squeezed with a slight twitch and Marcus felt the blood rush to his head. His hands grabbed at the cold steel that clung to him like a vise. His chest squeezed, his lungs burned, his hands shook and struggled to get it off, but they couldn't pry open the trap that held his throat.

The room was spinning and his vision blurred until the plump man with the pointed nose and small, watery eyes became a murky mess. Marcus' hearing was still functioning perfectly however and his sense of smell worked like a charm, for he heard a sizzling sound and smelled the faint sickening aroma of burned flesh. The strange thing was, he didn't feel anything near a burning sensation save for the fire in his lungs as they bellowed for air.

"N-now, you l-listen, Marcus," he heard Wormtail say in an angry voice.

Marcus didn't know whether to scream or to laugh, for Wormtail still found himself stuttering though it was clear that he held the upper hand.

"I've been with w-with my master much longer than y-you. And I'll have y-you know that no matter what you think, I'll always be here. He'll always have use for me. D-Death Eaters come and go, but I'll always be at His side."

Another twitch and the pressure increased ten fold. Marcus' hands grew frantic now. Wormtail continued to talk, and with each word his voice gained more confidence and grew dangerously low.

"Because I've s-sacrificed all for him. I've remained faithful, and he knows that I'm the only one who asks for nothing more."

Two steps sent Marcus crashing into the hard surface of the double doors and the guards stepped away, smirking slightly. Gasping, eyes bulging in disbelief and desperation, he clawed at the hand that wouldn't let go.

"You'll listen to me, Marcus because my word is His."

Then with a jerk of the wrist Wormtail threw the man and he slid along the floor, gasping and shuddering, and crying out because he now felt the searing flames race across his neck. An imprint of a hand kissed his tender skin.

His vision dimmed and before he succumbed to the darkness he heard Wormtail say, "Wake him when I come back out."

Then the doors shut, and his head fell.

* * *

Wormtail hated it. He despised it. From the moment Voldemort had it wielded onto the stump of his arm the night he had given a piece of himself freely, he had always wondered why. Why was this given to him? Why had his master rewarded him with something capable of such great power? Then the morning after he had come to realize the true nature of the token. It was both a blessing and a curse. A gift and a nuisance. 

It was as if the hand had a mind of it's own. It thirsted for blood. For something to crush, to squeeze, to kill. Always this gnawing hunger, this burning need and the man formerly known as Peter Pettigrew soon found that he had to fight the raging thirst day and night. He feared that if he did not, it would consume him.

Always it would twitch with the constant yearning to grasp onto something and reduce it to ash, much like it had done to the many branches, cups and banisters Wormtail held in the early days of rebirth when he had thought it to be a pretty little thing.

As the days dwindled though, it soon became an aching throb, a nagging voice that urged him to squeeze, to crush. And it frightened him.

Now, always having to fight the internal battle, Wormtail had managed to reduce the ravenous need to a pulsing twitch of the silver fingers. Each twitch and he would grind his teeth in frustration cursing the day he had met his master. The anger festered and broiled into hate and hate into fear. For what could he do? What angered him the most was that the Dark Lord knew. He knew what he had given his servant and He knew the servant's feelings.

There was a part of him that was thankful for the Dark Lord's unfathomable choice of sparing his life and there was another part of him that was ashamed for the thankful feelings. Maybe the Dark Lord liked the idea of having a servant who both loved and hated him. One thing was certain, Wormtail knew himself; He knew that he was not a courageous man and that his loyalty sprang from his need for self-preservation.

Why he was chosen to be a Gryffindor was beyond him, even to this day. All he knew was that in the past James and Sirius were the strong ones. They could protect him.

Then two things happened: word of the Dark Lord's rising power reached his ears, and James Potter met Lily Evans; Beautiful, sweet, spirited Lily with the shining eyes.

Wormtail's feelings for Lily were very much like his present feelings for his master. He loved her and he hated her. Though while his love for his master was more of an adoration of power, his love for Lily was in fact an adoration of person, of character.

He loved her because she was the only person who treated him with respect. Out of every wizard, witch, or muggle that Peter Pettigrew had met in his long and fearful life it was only Lily, sweet fiery haired Lily who looked at him and truly saw him. It was she and only she that had treated him like a man. Like a wizard. And he loved her for that.

But from the moment James laid eyes on her, Peter knew that his friend's eyes would be for her and only her. He knew that all protection, and all thought for him was lost. He was only an after thought in James' mind, cast aside and shadowed. Oh, James still had eyes for smirking Sirius, and Remus' predicament always left room for consolation and care, but for Peter there was nothing. He was merely James' shadow.

And when Lily blossomed before the tousled haired boy's eyes, Peter became nothing more than a wisp of smoke that was always present and always overlooked.

This was why he hated her. This was why he loved her, and this was why she haunted him in his already dream filled sleep.

There was Lily laughing. Lily reading. Lily dancing as the snow gently drifted around her bundled form. The sun's rays casting a glow on her skin as she scooped fallen books into her arms. Her smile, radiant and her eyes bright.

Lily Evans.

The woman who respected him.

The friendly witch in Hogwarts.

The girl James loved.

The mother of Harry Potter.

Harry Potter.

The boy who lived.

The boy who spared his life and in doing so, weaved a bond so strong that Wormtail often found himself struggling to think of a way to unwind it and repay the debt.

Lily Evans' son.

The girl he loved and hated.

This all went round in circles in his mind with bits of memory thrown into the fray causing him to turn in upon himself in remorse, frustration and guilt.

"Peter," she had said with a friendly smile.

"Hello Lily," he had said with nervous eyes. By then he had already been to see his master and had the Dark Mark seared onto his skin.

"I'm glad you've come. I haven't seen you in ages. James has been trying to reach you."

"I've been busy."

"Too busy to floo in to your friends?"

A blushing look. A warming smile.

"Would you like to see him?"

"Oh, I-I-"

"His name is Harry, Peter."

"Oh. Harry, erm, t-that's a, erm, nice name."

"Would you like to hold him?"

"No."

Wormtail shut his eyes against the memory of Lily's frowning features. He shook himself and the memory faded away, left to be perused in the darkness of his bedroom. Now, however, he had a task to complete.

The room was dark.

"Lumos."

There. That was better. Two girls were asleep. One was curled up on the floor and the other was slumped against the wall with another girl's head pillowed on her lap. The youngest was awake and she hovered over the third girl who moaned in her sleep.

"I heard shouting," she said quietly, but Peter paid no attention to her for the slumbering girl curled on her side suddenly captivated him.

He knelt and leaned over her, bringing the light closer to her features. Red hair cascaded in ripples around her head and in one fierce jerk he was suddenly pulled into the past.

"_Hello Peter."_

"Lily," he whispered aloud, waking the sleeping girl.

Her eyes jerked open. Not Green, but silver, like the hand now joined to his body. Peter shuddered.

The girl gasped and lashed out. She caught him square in the jaw.

"Stop it," he hissed catching her hands in his. His jaw ached as he spoke.

She screamed and kicked.

"Silencio."

The screaming stopped. The kicking didn't.

"Stop it! I'm not going to hurt you, girl! Stop- will you just-"

"Her name is Adel," the youngest added, not too helpfully.

So this was the one that caused so much havoc and cost two Death Eaters their lives. Wormtail almost smiled. Almost.

"Adel. If you don't stop I'll put a full body bind curse on you, and believe me you won't like it then."

She glared at him, then after one final struggle she stopped and in return he gave her back her voice. "Why were you looking at me?" she said suspiciously.

Wormtail chose to ignore her and he went over to the youngest.

"She's sick," the child said.

"I know."

"Her name is Orla. Can you help her?"

"My master sent me here to do that."

He looked at the child who had Orla's head on her lap. The girl cringed at the mention of his master and she cast a worried look at Orla.

"I'm Emma, and that's Petra. If you're also here to take some blood then take me. Orla's sick and Adel's still shaken from that curse you wankers set on her."

"How old are you?"

"Fourteen. Orla's the same age. Adel's thirteen, and Petra's eleven."

Adel moved into Peter's line of vision and her appearance unsettled him. She looked far too much like Lily for his liking.

"Alright," was all he said before he set to work on Orla's arm.

* * *

Harry yawned. Was it possible to feel like your brain has turned to mush? If it was, then Harry would have loved to say that his brain was indeed now mush-like. Or was it his head? Either way it didn't matter. Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore were not worse than lessons with Snape, but they weren't pleasant either. 

Still it was great to know that any embarrassing memories wouldn't be mocked or gawked at.

Though there was the one time when an inkling of the first night that had started it all seeped out and through.

(Cue awkward pause)

"Well, let us just pretend that I have never seen that, right Harry?"

"Erm, right professor."

"Alright, and once again: clear your mind, Harry."

But after that it was quite hard to do so. All Harry could see was the once fond memory now soiled by the Headmaster's unsettling presence saying, 'Now that really must be awkward Harry." and "Do think she likes that?" or "Now that is something that surely must have been illegal when I was your age."

In short, the session ended soon after that as Harry quickly came to find it unbelievably hard to concentrate.

On the bright side, he was improving. He yawned once more and suddenly grew mildly aware of clicking footsteps pattering his way. Instantly curious, Harry quickened his pace to see what was coming towards him in such a hurry. It was, after all a Saturday morning and clearly people were either outside, still in bed, or enjoying a late breakfast. It was far too early on a Saturday for anyone to be randomly roaming the halls and in such a hurry as well.

Heavy panting soon accompanied the clicking and Harry felt the sudden urge to grip his wand. He brushed the wariness away and slowed his walk, thinking that it just may be Filch chasing after Peeves, but if it was then wouldn't the heavy breathing be more like a wheeze? And he knew for a fact that Peeves was merrily screeching "Snape smells" on a completely different floor.

The sounds grew louder until suddenly Hermione with hair and robes billowing about her, rounded the corner and gasped, "Harry!"

Harry only had time to blink in surprise for she grabbed a handful of his robes and dragged her along with him. "Quick!" she breathed. "Hide!"

Bewildered Harry allowed himself to be pulled along, stumbling and saying, "What?"

"Hurry!"

They flew down several flights of stairs, rounded corners, burst through doors, and ran down more stairs, round more corners and through more doors until, "Here Quick!"

And he was pulled under the stairs and pushed into a dark corner.

"Hermione wha-"

"Shhh!" she hushed, pressed herself against him and clung to his arms. The feeling of her small, soft figure against him nearly made him forget his confusion as his arm naturally went to wrap itself around her waist, pulling her closer.

Every now and then she dared to dart her head out and peek carefully into the light of the corridor. She strained her ears for any bit of sound and if any footsteps came along she'd let out a squeak, push back a baffled Harry further into the dusty darkness and bring a hand over her mouth. When this happened a third time Harry tried to straighten under her arm, and succeeded in banging his head on the roof of the staircase.

"Oh, Harry are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," he said rubbing the top of his head, but she didn't seem to hear him.

He braced a hand against the wall behind him and was forced to lower his head stoop lest he be wrecked with brain damage from a battered skull. Many boys wish for height at a young age.

"Hermione this is ridiculous. Who are we hiding from?"

"Colin."

"What?"

"And Dennis."

"Dennis?"

"And Michael."

"Who?"

"And I think Susan is with them as well, but I'm not really sure."

"You're running from a mob of eleven and thirteen year olds?"

"Oh, Harry stop it. This is not the least bit funny."

"Actually I find this hilarious. Whatever happened to the calm, no nonsense, straight forward Hermione who faced her problems with flair?"

"Flair?"

Harry shrugged in response.

"Well, the simplest answer to that would be: I fell for you. Ever since then, my mind's been a mess and I haven't been acting like I should be."

This must have been a good answer because one moment Hermione was looking out into the corridor and the next she felt a touch of a hand on her chin, turning her around, and her lips captured fiercely in a passionate kiss.

She must have been completely out of her mind, for in the next second she was mildly aware of herself responding to the heated kiss with vigour as she pushed Harry against the wall, allowing his hands to roam the length of her body.

Grasping his hair with frustrated fingers, she tore her mouth from his and pulled his head back. The green of his eyes was smouldering as they drifted for a moment to lock on the curly locks of the girl who was ravishing his neck. Breath heady and gasping, his eyes shut as he let her take control. Let her devour him. Wanting her to slip inside and bury deep. His lips parted, aching for her taste and he felt her hands slip underneath his robes. He growled and brought her head up to his, claiming her lips, and his senses exploded.

She made a small sound in the back of her throat and he flipped them around so it was now she who was pressed up against the musty wall, her neck arched as he seared her tender skin with his lips, causing her to writhe and pant and press herself against him, straining.

They frantically moved and shifted, gasping; both overwhelmed with a carnal need. So it would be hard to imagine either one of them managing pulling away from the other, but Harry somehow managed this feat. With a sudden heave and an intake of breath, he pulled himself away from her and took a step backwards. His arms stretched out and held her as if wanting to force space between them. Both were breathing heavily.

Hermione, he found after his vision managed to clear and the proper amount of blood rushed back to the proper head, looked thoroughly ravished with her hair bushier than usual and her robes dishevelled. Harry grinned.

"You're looking rather pleased with yourself, aren't you?" she said with a sniff and he let her go. She began to straighten herself out and Harry almost laughed. Hermione swatted him in the arm.

"Ow."

"Serves you right, Harry. I wasn't planning for that to happen at all. What if we were caught?"

"Well, I'd think that would have made things more interesting," Harry was only met with a sigh in response and followed Hermione out from under the stairs and into the bright corridors.

"Why were they chasing after you anyway?" he asked.

"Oh, it was just some nonsense. You don't want to hear it."

"Hermione. You made me run a marathon around the school, pushed me down flights of stairs and snogged me in a dark corner. I think I deserve an explanation."

Hermione's cheeks flushed and she said, "Oh, well if you must know," she took a breath, "Michael has developed some sort of crush on me and Dennis, told him that it would be better if he told me about his feelings, but Michael would only do it if Dennis were there, and naturally Colin wanted to come along to capture the moment on film, and Susan- who is Michael's best friend, and the sweetest girl by the way- fancies Michael, but is too shy to admit it because Michael is already a very timid boy and she doesn't want to ruin the friendship she has with him, which sounds a lot like our predicament, but anyway she wanted to go with him just to make sure I don't make him feel foolish or anything of the like because she's fiercely protective, and you and I both know that I would do no such thing. Now if it had been just Michael who approached me then I would have gladly stayed and talked to him, but Dennis appeared and Colin thought I couldn't see him snapping photos behind the table in the common room and of course that drew more students so I made an excuse and I left, but Dennis called after me saying things like 'he's a great bloke if you'd only get to know him' and dragged Michael by the arm, who dragged Susan, and Colin followed snapping madly. So instead of turning to give them a piece of my mind, I panicked and…well I found you," she finished not at all breathless.

Harry blinked.

"Er…should I be jealous?"

"Oh don't be silly, Harry. Of course not. He's only eleven and I've made a horrible mistake not talking to him. I'll find him now. See you at dinner?"

"Erm, yeah. Sure."

Still bewildered, he felt Hermione lean up and quickly brush his lips in a goodbye kiss. Then she was gone leaving him feeling puzzled, slightly used, and strangely giddy all at the same time. The girl was driving him mad.

Harry figured that the best thing to do would be to get a quick bite to eat from the kitchens so he headed in the general direction.

"Come on freckles, you know Blaise didn't mean it," a voice Harry recognized as Malfoy's drifted from a dark corner to his right.

His ears perked up at the sound of a familiar girl's voice answering him. "Hmmph."

"Want me to hex him?"

"I'll do it myself."

She sounded awfully familiar and Harry inched closer to hear what they were saying.

Malfoy laughed.

"Don't bother, you won't even get near him."

She made an affronted sound and Harry saw him gently grasp her arms. He tilted his head to get a better view of the girl, but Malfoy's gigantic back was in the way.

"No, hang on listen. What I meant to say was that being in Slytherin enables you to practice certain…spells that otherwise aren't really appreciated by many," Malfoy continued.

"Are you saying that he'll use Avada Kedavra on me?" the girl said in disbelief.

"No. Believe it or not there are some things that're worse than death, and besides, I'll break his neck before he touches you."

Harry gagged.

"If you're trying to gain points, Draco, it's not working," the girl replied.

"Alright, how's this for an idea: I throw you over my shoulder and find us an empty broom closet?"

Harry made a face at the thought.

"You wouldn't dare."

Apparently Malfoy did, and Harry heard a laughing shriek, and a "Put me down, you lummox!" He grimaced in disgust and was about to slip as far away from Malfoy and his mate as possible when a flare of red in the musty darkness caught his eye and it hit him. He knew who the voice belonged to, but his brain didn't want to admit it.

Harry's jaw dropped when he saw a grinning Malfoy troop out from the corner and into the light with his laughing prize over his shoulder. Needless to say all three were fairly surprised by the strange turn of events.

"Harry!"

"Ginny!"

"Potter."

Harry didn't even bother to acknowledge the blonde and once again shouted, "Ginny!"

All three froze in place, then something in Ginny's brain clicked or maybe it was just the blood rushing to her head, but she started to squirm with as much dignity as she could muster and said, "Please put me down, Draco."

"_Draco?_" Harry said incredulously. "You call him Draco now? And what's this, Malfoy? Get your filthy hands off her, what have you done?" His hand itched to take a hold of his wand.

"Nothing that she didn't want me to do, Potter."

"Draco, don't. Harry-" Ginny started, but Harry took a step back.

"You're going to tell me that none of this is what it looks like. I'm dreaming and I should just go off to bed."

Draco snorted, and Ginny glared at him. "I'll see you tonight," she said.

He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself and with a look at Harry, Draco deliberately leaned down to place a kiss on her lips. Harry blanched and had the sudden urge to claw his eyes out.

When Malfoy finally disappeared up the stairs Ginny spoke, "No, Harry. You're completely awake."

"But, but you a-and _Malfoy,_" he said the name as if it was a disease and wrinkled his nose.

"Harry, I love you like you were one of my brothers, but please," she sighed exasperatedly. "I don't need a brother right now. I know exactly what I'm doing, and I'm happy with Draco."

Harry still couldn't manage to get over the fact that she was calling the scum by his first name.

"God, how long…"

"It's been about three months."

"_Three months_!"

"Yes! Three wonderful, exciting months, Harry! And no, no one knows but Hermione and now you and you're not going to tell anyone. Especially Ron."

Harry's eyes, narrowed. "I'm not going to lie to my best friend."

"Hermione didn't lie to you. You and Ron just never asked, so she stayed silent and that's all you have to do. That's all you're going to do, Harry. Let me make my own decisions, and let me be the one to tell my own secrets."

Harry was silent for a moment and he looked at her. He remembered when she was just a child, blushing every time he walked into a room. It hit him like a wave when he finally realized that Ginevra Weasley was not a child any longer.

"Okay. I won't tell him." Ginny's shoulders sagged as she visibly relaxed, but Harry continued, "but you're gonna have to tell him, Gin. Don't let him find out the way I did. It'll kill him."

She looked at her shoes and said in a quiet voice, "I know."

Harry sighed and walked over to her. "Hey, sorry I yelled. It was just a shock, you know."

"It must have been."

He put a comforting arm around her and she leaned against him. "So all this time, you've been hiding him from us?"

"Yes."

"Must have been hell."

"Oh, Harry you have no idea."

"Who else knows?"

"As of now? Just you and Hermione."

"When are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know."

"Better be soon."

"I know."

They grew quiet at the sound of echoing footsteps plodding down the stairs. Seamus and Dean spotted them, waved and went on their way. When they were alone once more Harry said, "Hey listen, are you sure about this? I mean, are you really _really _sure?"

Ginny smiled. "Yes, Harry. I'm very sure. He's…different around me. It's like he's a completely different person."

Harry snorted.

"That's not very attractive you know."

"Yeah, well neither is the amazing bounding ferret."

Ginny sighed in response. "I don't expect any of you to be his best friend. I just wish you all could be civil though. It just makes things easier."

They started walking. Where they were headed, neither knew, but Ginny still clung to Harry's arm.

"Do you love him?"

She bit her lip before she responded saying, "I don't know. I mean I know it's more than just a fancy, but I don't think it's enough to be love. God, I don't think I've ever even been in love. I wouldn't even know if I am."

"Trust me, you'll know."

"Hmm, you and Hermione."

"Yes. Me and Hermione."

"I think it's incredibly sweet, you know," she said looking up at him with a smile.

"Yeah? Well, erm, thanks."

The continued in their steady quiet stroll. Every now and then saying their hellos to the few familiar students that came their way.

Harry randomly glanced a portrait of a man with a gigantic nose, sporting a ruff that engulfed his neck. The man noticed Harry staring and at once, he became shy, opting to cover his nose with delicate hands. Harry thought he heard the portrait mutter despairingly, "I told him to shorten it, but did he listen to me? Nooo. It becomes you, he said. It' really quite attractive, he said. Well. A load of good it does to me now. Confound it all."

Harry turned to look at Ginny. "If he ever hurts you, you tell me alright?" he suddenly spoke up, abruptly breaking the comfortable silence.

"What? Oh, Harry don't be-"

"I'm serious. If anything happens. Anything at all, tell me."

"Yes, father," she said, rolling her eyes.

"There's a good girl," he said ruffling her hair.

She frowned and pushed his arm away with a laugh. They found themselves at the fat lady's portrait

"I'll tell him tomorrow," Ginny said, finally letting go of Harry's arm.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. It's got to be soon, or it will be a horrible birthday present."

_Would have been the most memorable present Ron'd ever have too. _Harry thought.

"Okay. If you need me-"

"I'll be fine. Thanks, Harry," Ginny leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, said the password and climbed through the portrait hole. After a beat, Harry followed her inside. He couldn't get the image of Ginny draped over Draco's shoulder out of his head and he held back a shudder.

Hermione was sitting at a table going over her notes.

"She's probably made a study table already," he muttered with a fond smile.

Then Draco and Ginny's earlier conversation popped in his head. _Zabini? _He trotted over to Ginny and caught her on the stairs. "Hey, Gin?"

"Yeah?"

"Answer something for me?"

"This isn't about Draco, is it Harry? Because I've already told you that I'm-"

Harry shook his head and his eyes narrowed at the name. "No, it's about what Malfoy said. I heard him say something about Blaise Zabini doing something to you."

Ginny frowned. "You were eavesdropping on our conversation?" Harry waved her away and looked down, trying hide his embarrassment.

"Yeah, I'm bloody scum, but listen Gin. What did Zabini do?"

"Oh that, he was being a prat about a book or something."

Harry stopped himself from widening his eyes, and forced his posture into something of nonchalance. "A book? Why would be a prat over a book?"

"He thought I took it. It was completely ridiculous, as clearly the book I had in my hands was for Herbology and not Defence Against the Dark Arts. I told him to shove it and if he couldn't find his sodding book then he should go and explain it to Madam Pomfrey, not yell at me. That's when he made some idiotic comment, and I punched him in the nose," she said flippantly.

Harry choked back a laugh. "You punched Zabini?"

"He was being an arse, and I would have gotten a good swing if Draco hadn't stepped in."

"Bastard."

"Harry!"

"Sorry."

"Listen, I'm going to go take a shower then read some, and don't worry about Zabini. I can take care of myself."

Harry nodded and watched Ginny head up the stairs. This definitely was one of those days.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked when Harry slumped into a chair across from her.

"Yeah. I'm just…you knew about Ginny and Malfoy?"

Hermione paused in her work and looked up at him with mild surprise. "So she told you?" she said looking fairly impressed.

_Oh, she told me._ "Actually, I found out for myself."

When Hermione threw him a questioning look, he shook his head and told her to not worry about it. "Hey listen, I think Zabini lost the book."

* * *

Orla was breathing easier now. Her temperature was still fairly high, and her arm didn't look all that good, but she was breathing much easier. 

"It's time," Wormtail said and Emma and Petra stood and followed him out the door.

The girls squinted as the bright light attacked their senses. Weber took Emma's arm, but she fiercely shook it off with a glare and raised her chin.

"Just leave her, Weber. She has nowhere to go anyway."

Emma took Petra's hand and gave it a squeeze and they followed the Death Eaters down the bright corridor.

* * *

"That still leaves us with nothing, mate," Ron said as the three of them climbed out of the portrait hole. 

They had told him everything minus Ginny and Draco. Harry still couldn't manage to hold a straight face whenever he thought of the two of them together. What made it worse was having to look Ron in the eye and not say anything. He didn't know what he was going to do in the Great Hall. Sitting with both Ron and Ginny and not say anything was going to be difficult. Ugh. Just thinking about it made his skin crawl.

He felt Hermione slip her hand into his and give it a comforting squeeze. She was still talking to Ron as they walked down the corridor and trotted down the stairs. Inside his head Harry did several cartwheels, but on the outside he chose to settle for the good old goofy smile.

"There are other ways of getting information, Ron."

"Oh and what do you plan to do, Hermione? Sneak into the Slytherin common room, kidnap Zabini and tie him to a tree?"

Hermione paused and looked as if she was contemplating Ron's comment.

Ron looked like he was going to laugh out loud.

"Hermione. I was joking."

"Oh, honestly Ron, of course I know you were only joking. I'm thinking of something else." And she grew silent once more.

"Care to explain?" Harry asked.

"Leave it, mate. She could take hours."

Hermione only gave Ron a shrewd look.

They stepped into the crowded Great Hall and took their seats.

"We'll talk about this later then," Harry muttered to the them. He reached across the table to grab a chicken leg.

"Hey, Gin." Ron greeted, and Harry nearly knocked over his glass of pumpkin juice.

Hermione gave him a warning look and Ginny barely glanced at him. She gave Ron a smile, but it looked somewhat forced. "Hi, Ron."

"So how are the costumes?"

"Ron! Not so loud," Hermione said in a fierce whisper as she cast wary glances around them. No one seemed to be paying any attention or looking their way.

"Relax. Everyone's too busy anyway, and besides, Dumbledore isn't even here."

And here was another surprise for Harry, and he paused in eating to glace up at the Professors' table. Sure enough a seat beside Professor McGonagall was empty. Many of the professors looked tense, especially flighty Professor Flitwick, who squeaked in surprise every time Professor Wellington turned to speak to him. Harry noted that McGonagall had her lips pressed into a thin line. Hagrid wasn't present either. Neither was Snape.

"Hermione! How are you?"

"Hello, Tyler. I'm fine, thanks. How is your essay?"

"Much better thanks to you. I'm actually managing to pull up my abysmal marks."

"Oh, don't be silly. Your marks were never quite so bad. You just needed to fix up some mistakes, that's all."

"Again, thanks to you."

Ron eyed the newcomer with distaste in his eyes. He looked like the kind of boy who took showers regularly, kept a comb in his back pocket and a mirror in his satchel. He didn't like him.

Ron tried to catch Harry's eye, but Harry was too busy scanning the Head table to notice that an extremely well groomed and not to mention good looking young man had taken a seat beside his girlfriend and was casually leaning against the table as if he owned the world.

"So are we still on for tonight?"

It was this that managed to catch Harry's attention and he looked over at Hermione and was puzzled at the sight of the new boy. _Tonight? _

Ron looked from Harry to Hermione and could see that Harry wasn't going to say anything, so without thinking he nearly shouted, "She can't."

Three pairs of eyes glanced his way, and he hoped his ears weren't red.

"I can't?" Hermione said with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah."

"Oh," the boy looked slightly disappointed and both Harry and Ron didn't fail to catch him eyeing idly Hermione for a moment.

Ron saw Harry's jaw clench. _Yeah, Harry. It's called jealousy. And this boy here is gonna give you a giant spoonful. _

"Yeah, she can't," Harry said shifting closer to Hermione.

She noticed this and glanced at him. "Why?" she asked.

Why, indeed? For a brief moment both boys panicked. Harry looked at Ron for an answer.

"Because he's got a date planned."

"A date?" Hermione and Tyler said. Harry nearly joined them, but he held himself back.

"Right Harry?"

"Er, yeah. It was supposed to be a surprise." He didn't look Hermione in the eye and failed to see the knowing smile on her face.

"Oh, I didn't know-"

"Yeah, that's right. She's taken, mate."

"My intentions were nothing short of being a gentleman."

Ron snorted into his mashed potatoes. Hermione ignored him and gave Tyler a gentle smile.

"That's alright Tyler. I never expected anything else. Actually, if you're free now we can go to the library quickly."

Harry and Ron's heads snapped up.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely positive. I've already finished anyway," she stood up. "We can go right now if you like, that is," she paused to look at her best friends. "If that's alright with you two."

They spluttered in answer.

"Alright then," she said brightly. "I'll see you tonight, Harry." And they watched her leave with the unsettlingly clean boy named Tyler.

"Well that went well," Ginny said.

Harry nearly jumped at her voice. He had forgotten she was still there. "Thanks," he said dryly. His shoulders sagged. "Now what?"

"Well now you plan out the most romantic date you've ever thought of. Hi, beautiful." The last was directed to Luna, for she had approached their table and took a seat next to Ron, greeting him with a kiss.

"Hello everyone."

They all said their hellos and Ginny filled her in while Harry and Ron continued their conversation.

"How long to do I have?"

"Oh, about three and a half hours."

"Wonderful."

"I could cover for you if you need more time."

"Ron, remember last night, when I told you that I wanted to take her on a real date? You know, not just at Hogsmead, or sneak around the school at night, or snog on the couch in the room of relaxation date, but a real date?"

"Yeah. Now you have the chance."

"Well see, I actually wanted more time to put some thought into this."

"What, three and a half hours isn't enough?"

"I hate you."

"Really Harry, you should be thanking me. If I hadn't said anything she'd be off with Mr. I -can't- keep- it- in- my-pants. Did you see the way he looked at her?"

Harry's jaw clenched.

Bull's eye.

"Who?" Luna asked.

"Tyler," Ginny said.

"He's not that tall, has got gigantic shoulders, unnaturally clean face and perfect hair," said Ron.

"Tyler Higgins?"

Ron sniggered, "Higgins?"

"You know him?" Ginny asked.

"Sure. He is in Ravenclaw, is very handsome, and is the sweetest person you'll ever meet. Oh, do stop it, Ronald that's incredibly rude He can't help his last name."

With much difficulty, Ron managed to shape his features into the epitome of solemnity.

"And I think he fancies Hermione," Luna finished.

"He what?" Harry said.

"Fancies her. Likes her. Thinks she is adorable. She is all he talks about in the common room. I think he has fancied her for ages and has just never had the courage to step up and talk to her."

Harry's face darkened, and Ron could just see him snapping his fork in two.

"That's sweet," said Ginny.

"No, that's wrong, Gin. Oh, now you _have _to kick his arse, mate."

Ginny sighed. "Harry is kicking no one's arse, Ron. He just has to plan the date. That's all."

"But that smarmy bastard had his eyes all over-"

"Ronald. You're not helping," said Luna

Ron glanced at Harry, who had a dark look on his face.

"Right, sorry. Now listen, mate, you've got me, Luna and Ginny's a girl. She can help too."

"Thanks for that spot on observation, Ron," Ginny said dryly. "Now finish up the both of you. We've got a date to plan."

Harry looked mournfully at his chicken. "She knows I've got nothing."

"Yes, well, you'll just have to prove her wrong."

They got up and headed to the room of requirement.

"Just think, mate. Be positive." Ron threw a supporting arm over Harry's shoulders and said in a grandiose voice, "You're Harry, king of romance, Lord of melting hearts, swooning damsels, and Prince of the quivering thighs."

Harry laughed and Ginny looked affronted. "Ugh, Ron, that's not positive that's disgusting."

They stepped into the room and Luna shut the door behind them.

"What I need is a place," said Harry form his position on the couch.

"And we all know that Hogwarts clearly doesn't have anything that's even remotely romantic."

"What about in here?" Ron said, gesturing around the room. "It's private. It's cozy."

"And I've used this room already. No, it's gotta be different."

"What about one of the greenhouses? The plants give off an exotic feel and that can be romantic," Luna offered.

"Yeah, if you're Neville," scoffed Ron.

"And I don't think Sprout leaves the doors unlocked," said Harry.

"Maybe you can ask Hagrid if you can borrow his cabin," said Ginny, who walked over to the gramophone to play some music.

"I don't even know where Hagrid is. He wasn't in at dinner, and anyway, I don't want her to think I'm aiming for a shag. All I've got in the cabin is a bed." Harry sighed, got to his feet and began to pace.

"How 'bout the lake? I've seen tons of blokes take their girls out onto the lake."

"It's still too cold for that. We'll be shivering the whole time and she'll just want to leave it all, head inside, and go to bed."

Harry ran his hands through his hair and sighed again. The music started, a smooth jazzy tune.

"I just need some place quiet, where we can be alone and talk."

"What about the Astronomy tower?" Luna spoke up as she idly flipped through a book.

"That's been done. So many times," said Harry.

"But it's still one hell of a romantic spot," said Ron.

Ginny smiled. "That's right. Sure tons of couples have been using for ages, but it's not the place, Harry. It's what you do for her there that counts."

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. "Hey, Gin, what's this song called?"

* * *

Date stuff: 

Gramophone, playing jazzy tune

Small candles leading up the stairs

Small candles scattering the tower

One crate

One white cloth for crate

One candle on crate

Two bottles of butterbeer

One telescope

"Is that it?" Harry asked, looking up from the parchment.

"That's a lot of candles," said Ron who was reading over his shoulder.

Harry couldn't believe that they were making him write a list. Correction: Ginny was making him write a list. Luna was adding anything she thought would be helpful and Ron sat on the couch being supportive.

"Yes, you don't want to be too extravagant. Keep it delicate and simple," Ginny said.

"You sure Filch won't notice the candles?"

"Filch never checks up there. He'd only know to look if someone told him to so don't worry, you're safe."

Harry scratched his head. "God, where am I going to get all those candles?"

"Luna and I will take care of everything Harry. Do you know what you're wearing?"

Harry's eyes darted in confusion. "Erm, clothes."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "How about being a little more specific, Harry."

"I don't know… er, jeans and a jumper?"

"What colour?"

Harry shrugged.

Was this kind of stuff important?

"I don't…know," he said bewildered. "Green?"

Ginny nodded and looked him over while Ron, clearly amused by Harry's discomfort, looked on silently.

"Better let me look through what you have, Harry. The outfit is always important."

Harry's eyes darted to Ron who was shaking his head and mouthing the word, "No."

Ginny turned to follow Harry's gaze and Ron suddenly became immersed with the ceiling. She turned back to Harry and folded her hands over her chest. "Well, Harry?"

Well they were only clothes. What was the harm in having her choose them? It was easy enough and shouldn't take too long.

"Sure, I guess."

* * *

Three sweaters, two button down shirts and a pair of black slacks later, Harry found himself in the boys' dorms wearing clothes that didn't belong to him. 

Luna had gotten the blazer from Terri Boot ("I don't think Terri would mind if we made some little size adjustments"); They got the shirt from Dean ("Wash it when you're done, yeah?"); And the jeans were taken from a very confused Seamus ("Hang on, lemme see if I'm hearin' you right. You want me… to give Harry…my pants?")

Harry looked at himself in the full length mirror Ginny had conjured up and he had to admit, he looked damn good.

"The green button down shirt brings out your stunning eyes, the black blazer perfectly accentuates your lean frame and broad shoulders, and your bottom looks fantastic in those jeans," Ginny said looking very pleased with herself.

Luna nodded in agreement.

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets feeling suddenly extremely shy. He didn't know if he should feel awkward over the fact that he was wearing Seamus' pants or that Ginny just complimented his back side.

"Well when my sister and my girlfriend finish checking out my best friend's arse, I think one of us should get Hermione and send prince charming to his tower," Ron said form his perch on his bed.

Harry flushed and coughed. "Luna, you sure it's not gonna break or anything?" he said, referring to the now mini gramophone tucked in his jacket pocket."

"It won't. Just place it where you want it, say the spell, and it will be back to normal again. Goodnight, Harry."

With Ginny and Luna out of the room and the mirror now gone, he sank onto his bed with a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

"Right. Well, it's time."

"Relax, mate. It's just a date. Nothing to be worried about right?"

"I know. Just can't help it."

"Well it is the first serious date you have with her."

"Yeah."

Harry stared at his shoes as he tried to still his racing heart. He didn't notice Ron looking at him with something resembling pity and amusement on his face.

"Here," he said as he stuffed a hand in his pockets. "I got something for you."

Harry looked up. "Ron, it's a date not marriage."

"Sod off. I was gonna give you this after the graduation ceremony, but well anyway here." He tossed it to him and Harry deftly caught it.

Curious, he opened his hand and looked the object resting on his palm. A small silver disc like object winked back at him. There was a little hole at the top. Harry turned it over as he inspected it. The disc was rather plain, really and it shone in the moonlight.

"What's this?"

Ron shrugged. "Got it from Fred and George's shop. They found a few things, while visiting Charlie last summer. The last time I saw them at the shop they said I could grab whatever I wanted free of charge."

"Weird."

"I know."

"Did they tell you what it is?"

"Dunno the name for it actually. Thought I saw Ned eyeing me as I picked it up, strange guy, Ned. Anyway, Fred said that has some sort of empathic power or something of the like. I got one for Hermione and me as well. Said it connected the wearers to each other, so that we're er, sort of aware each other's presence or something. We know if one of us is in trouble. Thought it'd be useful. You know, what with people trying to kill you and all, and besides it's good to know that the other is doing ok. I can't always be there to save your arse."

Harry grinned. "Thanks, Ron."

"Oh, er, the hole there is for a cord so you can put it around your neck. Here, hang on, I think I have one." Ron got up and began to rummage in his trunk, and Harry continued to look at the disc.

"So, how does it let us know if one of us needs saving?"

"Oh, er, Fred said that we'd just know. Ah here it is." He took the disc from Harry's hands, pulled the cord through and held it back out to him. "Go on then, put it on."

Harry smirked then batted his eye lashes, "Why Ron, really you shouldn't have."

"Sod off. It's not jewellery, it's protection."

Harry tied it around his neck and stuffed it under his shirt. The cord was long enough to have the disc pressed against his chest.

Ron snapped his fingers, "Oh, just remembered, Fred said that strong feelings towards you like hate or love make the disc grow cold. So let's say you're standing around…er, Lucius Malfoy or something. You feel the disc become icy against your skin and all that so you know that he's dangerous, plotting something and whatever, or he…wants a shag."

"Thanks. Great thought there," said Harry with a grimace.

"Well you know what I mean."

"Yeah, right. I got it. Disc gets cold, then that'll be the person to watch out for." Harry stood. "Listen Ron-"

Ron interrupted him and held up a hand. "Don't worry about it, Harry. Don't owe me a thing."

Harry wanted to say more, but he stopped himself knowing that silence was all Ron needed. Silence was what he wanted, because he already knew how grateful Harry was. So Harry just nodded and clapped him on the back.

"Thanks Ron," he said.

Ron grinned. "Don't mention it."


	18. Decay

Disclaimer: None is mine, save for the characters you don't recognize

Author's notes: Hello everyone. I live, and I come with gifts. Well, hopefully a very short chapter can be called a gift. I just thought I shouldn't add more to it b/c it was already so heavy.

Again, I must thank all of you for the wonderful reviews. I haven't been able to respond to you all, but I still want to let you know that your reviews mean a lot and keep me interested in this story.

I apologize for the length of this chapter. I hope you enjoy it though, and let me know what you think.

* * *

She was in the library, so things couldn't have been out of the ordinary. Everything was familiar. The smell of the books, the rows upon rows of shelves, even the heavy tombs that lay on the desk were familiar. No she had no reason to question the comforting surroundings. What she did find disconcerting however was that she couldn't remember why she was here in the first place, nor why Tyler Higgins was at her side smiling as if she had just given him a treat. 

"Sorry I took so long, it was harder to find than I thought," he said with that very uncomfortable smile of his.

He handed her a heavy tomb and looked at her with eyes that made her want to pull her robes tighter around her. She shifted away from him slightly.

"So this is what you were looking for, right?"

Hermione blinked up at him rather stupidly then glanced at the title of the book.

_Herbs and Remedies found in Canadian Wild_

Okay. Maybe he was into travel. Or he had a curious green thumb. Either way, Hermione knew that never in her eighteen years of life had she ever read or even heard of this book. Now granted she had read many, but she could guarantee that she remembered every title of every book.

And what had he said? She was looking for it? But why on earth would she be looking for it? And why was he sitting so closely? Lord she was hungry.

"So, I just want to say thank you yet again. I know you keep telling me to stop, but well it really isn't natural for a Ravenclaw to ask for help."

She gave him a thin smile and ran through the events of the day. First there was that whole episode with poor Michael professing his affection for her, then snogging with Harry in the dark corner under the stairs (she nearly blushed at the memory of that), Ginny punching Blaise in the nose over a book, then her, Ron and Harry talking about Blaise and his connection with the aforementioned book. They had been heading to the Great Hall for dinner. Now she was in the library with Tyler Higgins, an arrogant, pig headed boy who thought he was god's gift to the female population. She wondered if dinner was still available.

"So what was it that you said was important?" Tyler voiced, but she paid him no mind as she glanced at the clock. It was nearly half past eight.

"Hermione?"

But what had she been doing for the last hour and a half?

"Hermione?"

Sitting in the library with Tyler discussing the Canadian Wilderness?

"Hermione."

_Voldemort._ Hermione turned white. _Oh Merlin._ Tyler sounded concerned now and Hermione blinked and turned to him. "I'm sorry Tyler. I'm not feeling well."

"Do you want to see Madame Pomfrey?"

No she wanted to see Harry. Hermione shook her head and stood. Where was her satchel? "No, it's alright. I'll just go to bed early." Tyler looked slightly put out, but he handed her bag. She accepted it with shaking hands, mumbled her goodbye and fled.

She was running out of time. As she walked through the corridors, Hermione clutched her satchel to her side and blinked fiercely. She was running out of time. He was quickly gaining control and she still had not figured out the spells to prolong the side effects, to give her more time to be herself. Her breathing grew ragged and she ignored the stares she got from the students that passed her by. She could feel something building up and tightening in her chest and she grimaced, blinking even more vigorously and raising her eyes to the ceiling as her vision grew blurry. Her lip trembled.

Too soon. It was all happening too soon. Ron's birthday was approaching. He wanted to go to Steinheir and she wanted to go too. Their NEWTS were coming up. She wanted to pass them. Then graduation. Then there were schools after Hogwarts, or there were jobs. There was a future. There was life. There was Harry. Oh, Harry. A sigh escaped her lips and she struggled to hold the tears back. She did not want to die.

She could feel something tugging in the back of her head. It was like someone had tied a rope around her brain and was pulling it backwards. So, He was allowing her to feel Him take control this time. How considerate. "Hermione! There you are," Ginny said with a grin on her lovely features. Hermione did her best to fight Him back, to throw a barrier, but with a laugh He brushed it aside.

"Come dear, Harry has a surprise for you."

_Oh no. Harry. _Hermione struggled to speak, to decline, but only a muffled squeak came out of her closed lips. Ginny paid no mind and was not aware that something was amiss.

"He's up in the Astronomy tower."

"_How quaint," _the voice said in her head. She wanted to cry, but eyes were now curiously dry and devoid of any of the tears that had threatened to fall just minutes ago.

"Come along, love. Don't keep him waiting," Ginny said with a cheeky grin and Hermione followed her down the hall.

* * *

They lay her on an iron bed. The Death Eater named Collins, a big, burly man with shocking red hair and a sour breath ran a wand along the length of her body. Immediately her joints froze. Her arms and legs became stiff and numb. Ever so slowly the itching numbness crawled up past her knees, slinked up her thighs, along her abdomen and sealed itself over her aching shoulders where another heavyset Death Eater firmly had his grip on her.

Petra was frozen on the table. She could feel the final kiss of numbness brush up along her neck with a prickly caress and soon all that could move freely were her lips and her eyes. They darted around the room, refusing to look upon the length of the needle that protruded from the ceiling and hung directly above her forehead. She refused to speak, but already she could hear Emma's sobs from the other room.

Without another word, the men left and shut the door behind them. They stood behind the glass that separated the two rooms made for the blood and the source, and Petra waited for the word. Already her eyes, no longer able to ignore what was to come, were now trained onto the sharp needle and her mind willed it to shatter and melt away. Ragged gasps escaped her trembling lips.

"Begin," the voice said, and she whimpered.

At once the needle began to glow an eerie green and Petra let out frightened sob, a sound that echoed around the pitch-black room. She longed to move her head, to twist her arms free, throw her legs off the table and run. Instead she squeezed her eyes shut against the small bulbous substance that began to form at the tip of the needle. Her breath quickened as fear overwhelmed her and her chest ached to rise and fall with its speed. An orchestra of gasps and sobs and moans for it all to stop. Please. No. Stop. Echoed around her, and when the small bead of green began to tremble from the pull of gravity and dangle from the needle's tip, Petra screamed and shouted for her mother.

Then it dropped.

It landed daintily on her forehead and she shut her eyes at the impact. A raging heat ran through her insides, scraping at her magical essence and gathering it.

Another bulb began to form and that too dropped onto the same spot in the middle of her sweat slicked forehead. Then another. And another. Each drop a steady beat, and growing heavier and pounding fiercer than the last. She wanted to clench her fists, curl her toes, jerk her head and thrash on the table, but the spell kept her still and allowed her to endure the mindless agony of the steady drip dripping of the substance onto her forehead.

Her head was on fire, and her throat was raw, and the steady beat shook her eardrums so that all she could hear and feel was the thundering pounding of the drops of liquid and the blinding agony that followed it. Her jaw cracked as her mouth opened in a silent scream and tears leaked out of eyes that were squeezed shut.

This was what happened during The Walk, and this was what Petra was forced to endure throughout her captivity.

Emma had once said that Petra had nothing to worry about because they were never going to kill herTo which she replied heatedly,"You have no _idea _what I have to go through out there. So don't bloody tell me that I have no worries, because I have _plenty. _There's things worse than death, Emma. Far worse." And she was right.

Beyond the glass Emma wailed as the trickle of blood seeped out of her but in the dark room, with the steady pounding pain of a hammer on an anvil smashing into her skull and pockets of her magical essence made to gather at the base of her neck where it would be eventually sucked through the Dark Lord's wand and transported into a goblet to be consumed with the blood, Petra wished for rest. She wished for death. Then there was that small part in her, a very small concealed bit that lay hidden and waiting; dormant as the procedure went on and only awakened once she was in the safety of their room. An eye for an eye as the saying goes, and Petra knew that if she waited long enough, if she watched and waited, knew their strengths and weaknesses that then she could extract her revenge. Then it would be they and not she that wished for death.

"Alright?" Emma breathed once they were taken back into their room. Petra lay on her side, wrists aching from the shackles that had held her while she had waited for Emma's procedure to finish. Adel sent a glance in their direction before once again fixing her silver gaze on Wormtail who sat by Orla's prone form. Petra swallowed and gritted her teeth. Her fingers grazed the stone floor, tracing patterns along its rough surface.

"No," she said. "But we will be."


	19. What people are made of

DISCLAIMER: No money is being made, sad to say. And I do own some characters, just those that you don't recognize.

A/N: Well I'm back with many sincere apologies for the long wait, and many hopes that this chapter can make up for it all. I tried writing this chapter three times. So I hope this final product is to your liking. Please let me know what you all think and I just want to thank you guys for your reviews and your kind words of encouragement. I'm here to please, folks. Enjoy.

* * *

The wind ruffled the white cloth that covered the crate. Two bottles of butterbeer sat atop it, along with two glasses and a single rose in a simple vase. Roses were her favourite. Harry smoothed a hand over the cloth. He picked up the glasses and moved them closer to the vase. After a beat, he picked them up again and set them back in their original spot. He inched a chair forward. Then he inched it back. He lightly drummed his fingers on the crate and moved the glasses again before moving them back.

Yes, he was nervous.

Well then who wouldn't be? This was of course they're first official date and Hermione didn't even know it yet. Or did she? Either way, it didn't matter. Element of surprise or not, this still was their very first date and Harry was even dressed up for the occasion. It didn't matter that not a single item of clothing belonged to him. Everything had to be perfect. Things had to go smoothly. She was going to happy. And nothing was going to spoil this perfect nerve-racking moment. Harry cleared his throat and attempted to flatten his hair before moving the glasses again. He sighed, fed up with himself and forced his hands to his side.

Harry scuffed his shoe against the floor and sniffed, brushing his nose with the back of his hand. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked out at the horizon. The fluffy grey clouds that blanketed the indigo sky masked what stars that could have been seen. He could see the tops of the trees in the Forbidden Forest lightly sway with the cold breeze that nipped at his nose and ruffled his hair. Harry folded his hands behind his back, coughed and then opting for a more relaxed stance, he promptly stuffed his hands in his pockets.

The second reason for his nerves was cooling against his chest. Not too long ago, the smooth disc that Ron had given him had grown cool against his skin. What it meant, Harry didn't have a clue. Ron had said that if any of them were in danger, they would know. When asked 'how?' Ron merely shrugged and said, "You'd just know." Well right now, Harry didn't know much of anything. He fished inside his button down shirt and brought the object out to inspect it. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, but he felt more than he knew that something was wrong.

Then a thought occurred to him. Was Ron wearing the disc as well? If so, then what if the cool touch was indicating that his best friend was in danger? Harry couldn't remember though if he had even seen Ron string a cord through the thing. He fingered the cooling object and glanced at the closed door then at the watch Dean had given him as Christmas present. Hermione wasn't going to be here until half past. Harry had 25 minutes. If he ran, he knew that he could quickly check on Ron and make it back just in time for Hermione to arrive.

Nodding to himself; his decision made, Harry dashed for the door, ran down the stairs, turned the corner, bolted down the hall and nearly crashed into Luna who took a deft sidestep. Harry skidded to a stop, breathing hard. He asked her if she knew where Ron was.

"He is in the common room. I'm off to meet him right now. Shouldn't you be in the tower Harry, or do you have another plan?"

"No, it's the disc."

Luna eyed the item in question and reached out to it. "That's fascinating. Ronald hasn't got his on yet. I was actually going to give him this hair of Warburt Skinpunk to help keep his skin fresh and smooth. It's much stronger than that string he is planning on using. It can also keep away the gnomes. I have one for you as well. Do you want one?"

Harry didn't bother to ask what a Warburt Skinpunk was or why Ron's smooth skin would keep away gnomes. Instead he paused as an inkling of thought seeped through. If Ron wasn't in danger then there was only one answer for it.

Luna seemed to come to the same conclusion, for her eyes glowed with determination and she said, "I should come up with you. You can't be alone in this Harry."

Harry shook his head not wanting things to be falling apart already. "No, I don't want either of you coming near the tower. Just stay in the common, Luna."

"But Hermione could be-"

"Fine. She's just fine and anyway, Ron did get these things from Fred and George so…"

"Don't take this lightly Harry. I'll go meet Ronald and tell him. Contrary to what you think, you are not alone and you are not the tragic hero."

Harry didn't know what to say to that so he only blinked back at her.

"You should go upstairs now. If you meet her here then the surprise will be spoiled," Luna said.

Harry hesitated before turning to go and he paused in his step. If it was true… "Don't tell Ginny. I don't want her to worry."

Luna nodded. "Keep your wand close, Harry." He didn't answer her and only brusquely made his way back to the tower.

Luna watched Harry go and then she made her way to the Gryffindor tower, thoughts swirling in her head. Down the corridor she spotted a familiar figure walking towards her. His eyes passed over her as he came closer so it wasn't until Luna said hello that he allowed a bored gaze to glance her way.

"You might want to keep Ginevra close tonight, Draco," she said.

At this Draco stopped and stared down at the girl with the big blue eyes. "And why would I want anything to do with the Weaslette, Lovegood?" he drawled.

"Well because she is your girlfriend and you love her."

Draco looked surprised but he quickly suppressed the emotion and locked his gaze with hers. The two of them stared at each other for a heartbeat; one passively, the other calculating.

"You're not as stupid as you look." He paused. "Does Potter have it covered?"

"He thinks he does."

Draco nodded then without another word the continued on his way and Luna hoped that he would take Ginny far from the tower tonight.

* * *

Harry stood with his hands propped against the low wall. If Voldemort really was controlling her now then he knew that all romantic thoughts he had planned for tonight were just shot to hell.

If however Fred and George's gift proved to be false and Lord he hoped so, then he could go on as planned.

The cool disc was a small reminder to the ever-present truth. Harry looked at it, fiddled with it, and then placing his hands on the cord he turned it around and let the disc lie safely against his back. Truthful or not, it was better to keep some things secret. Ron would give Hermione her own disc and that was safer than Voldemort discovering it for Himself.

"Christ, what have I gotten her into?" Harry said aloud. He scowled at his hands. "Look at what you've done, you sodding idiot. Hell, I'm sorry Hermione. God, it's all my sodding fault."

The door creaked open and Harry briefly shut his eyes.

_Please, love. Please be okay. _

As if in answer to his silent plea, the disc grew colder and for a moment, Harry's face crumbled in despair. Then the rage simmered and boiled his insides. _You fucking wanker. _He let out a long exhaling breath and, just as he was taught, Harry raised the walls inside his mind. Then he turned around. She looked lovely as ever and pleasantly surprised.

"Hi," he said.

"Hello Harry."

* * *

"Ronald?" Luna whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Someone is on the stairs."

Without a thought, Ron quickly pushed Luna behind him and looked up. Indeed someone was on the stairs and the figure stood motionless as if he had heard their whispering. Luna jabbed a finger into Ron's back and made to move back beside him, but he kept her from doing so and hissed at her to keep still. She only looked at him in her wide eyed way, but Ron knew that she was annoyed.

"We have to do something, Ronald."

"Hang on."

Ron raised his was and pointed it at the figure who had not yet noticed their presence. Was this a good thing? Ron said the first spell that came to mind, "Petrificus Totalus."

The figure's limbs suddenly stuck to his sides and then in they watched, as if in slow motion, his body slowly tipped backwards. If it hadn't been for Luna's levitating spell to keep him upright and hovering, then all three of them would've been made known to the couple beyond the door.

_What terrific spies we make. _Ron thought dryly as Luna brought the figure closer to them, careful not to burn him on the many candles that lit the stairwell. Ron wished for a change of heart though once the light illuminated Blaise's face.

The boy looked at the two of them with narrowed eyes that seemed to say, "Let me go you insolent dogs."

Ron could just picture the steam pouring out of the boy's ears. Luna levitated him down the last three stairs and on the way as if by accident she jerked her wand sharply and Blaise's face thumped against the wall. Hard. Ron snickered. Blaise was still blinking from the impact when Luna brought him closer to them.

"Right then. This night is just full of surprises. Not too close now, Luna. We don't know what sort of tricks Death Eaters know," Ron whispered and accioed Blaise's wand. He waved it playfully before the boy's eyes before pocketing it and kept his own wand trained on the Blaise's chest. "Now, you wanna tell us what it is you're doing here?"

Blaise's eyes told them that it was none of their sodding business and to piss off. Luna flicked her wand and Blaise found that he could move his head freely.

"What happened to your face?" Ron asked, eyeing the large purple bruise on his left cheek.

"I thought you knew. Your stupid girlfriend couldn't handle a simple levitating spell."

Ron clenched his fists and ground his teeth in anger.

"Just let it be, Ronald," Luna said, placing a hand on his arm.

"Yes. Why don't you let it be, Ronald?" Blaise mocked.

Luna jerked her wand again. There was a small thump.

"Ow. Shit."

"Are you here to hurt Harry and Hermione?" she asked.

"Why don't you figure it out, Loony?" Blaise sneered.

Ron angrily reached out and grabbed a fistful of Blaise's robes and pulled him forward. "Don't you call her that," he said in a menacing voice.

"What are you going to do, Weasley?" Blaise said in a low voice. "Hit me?" He turned his head to show him his good cheek, which was pink from the thumping. "Here, give it a swing. Even out my skin tone."

Ron clenched his hand into a tight fist, but checked himself and let him go saying, "Nah. Ginny'll take care of that."

Blaise scowled.

"What are you doing here, Blaise? Give us a straight answer because we don't have any more time for games," said Luna.

Blaise looked at here evenly and said, "I came up here to think. I saw these candles and then I heard some shouting through the door. Sounded like there was trouble in paradise."

Ron made to bound up the stairs.

"I wouldn't go up there. From the sound of it, they're… not alone." Ron ignored him, but Luna told him to stop. She freed Blaise from the spell and he dropped lightly to his feet. Ron's eyes widened in surprise at what she had done but before he could say a word or make a move, Luna spoke.

"We're not going to pretend anymore that any of us don't have a part in this. If you were here to hurt them then you would have already attacked Ronald and I with a spell. We were nearly halfway up the stairs before we noticed you, and I think we all know that all these candles gave us away."

Ron blinked as he realized she was speaking the truth, and yet he held his ground as Luna continued.

"Now if you're here to help, then just please, Blaise. Tell us what you're planning on doing because you could not have come up here alone, knowing what you're up against, without an idea in your head."

There was another muffled shout and then sharp laughter. Three heads jerked up towards the door.

"Weasley, get back down here. Two more steps and you'll give yourself away."

"What? But the door is shut and they can't even see-"

"The Dark Lord doesn't need to see, to know you're there."

Ron paled and took two steps down.

"Your girlfriend wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw just for kicks, I see. Now shut your eyes and relax your mind."

"What?"

"Are you deaf? Shut your eyes."

Ron eyed the boy suspiciously. "How do we know that you won't do anything shifty?"

"You don't."

Ron continued to eye Blaise.

"Oh for heaven sakes, Weasley. You have my sodding wand. What else can I do?"

"Push us down the stairs."

"Quite a violent imagination you have there. But no. I don't feel like pushing people down stairs today."

"What do you want us to empty our heads for anyway?"

"Lord Weasley, one would think you lived in a box. You-Know-Who is a skilled legilimens. Know what that is?"

"Yeah."

"Then I would think that trying to calm yourself and stop thinking wouldn't be too hard for you to grasp in this situation."

Ron looked like he wanted to strangle him but Blaise held up a finger, "No no, the key here is relaxing. Try taking a leaf out of Looney's book. She seems to be getting the hang of it. Or tell you what, why don't you run off and go fetch Dumbledore?"

Ron took a deep breath and struggled to control his raging anger. Alright. That's not so bad.

"I'll go, Ronald. You stay here."

Blaise was watching him closely. "That's it Weasley. Just let go."

Ron felt Luna slip her hand into his and give it a reassuring squeeze before leaving him to his thoughts.

_Let go. Right. Yeah just let go. How in the hell am I supposed to just let go? I'll let _himgo. _Let my foot go up his sodding arse, the stuck up pretty boy wanker… Bollocks. Let go… _

Ron's eyes closed.

* * *

A crash.

Shouting.

Running footfalls.

"Weasley, you have my wand!"

"Nah, he's too heavy. Bollocks, mate. Zabini get your arse over here!"

Crunching glass.

"Oh god. Oh hell. Hermione."

"Get out of the way."

"She's fine?"

Coughing.

A dull thud.

"I'm not leaving them!"

"If you don't, they die, Weasley!"

Pounding footsteps.

Stumbling.

A door slams.

Silence.

* * *

Harry's eyes jerked open. His glasses were askew and his head felt like it had been roughly thrown through a window and smashed against a stone wall. It took a few seconds for his surroundings to stop spinning. He blinked several times and soon his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting that nature provided. The stars overhead winked at him until they were neatly covered by the slowly moving streaks of grey.

Harry swallowed and wondered if he could stand. His fingers twitched and with much pain, he slowly turned his head to look at his outstretched arm. His fingers curled into a fist slowly as if testing it and then gradually unfurled.

Harry's chest rose and fell with each breath he took and if he looked ahead of him past his feet, he could see the overturned crate, or what was left of it. The broken flutes which once held the sparkling bubbling liquid of the butterbeer, lay scattered in bunches here, and pieces there along the butterbeer soaked stone floor of the tower. The pale moonlight glinted beautifully off the shattered glass, and Harry briefly wondered what had happened to the candles.

"Awake now, are you?" a voice said and quick footsteps crossed the distance to him. The pain in his head rebounded from the echoing noise and Harry winced and squeezed his eyes shut. At least the disc was no longer uncomfortably cool against his back where he had secretly turned it around on its cord so the Dark Lord wouldn't feel it when He had pressed Hermione's body along the length of Harry's own rigid one.

_Hermione. _

Harry tried to speak. "Her..." But only a coarse squeak came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. This time his voice decided to cooperate with him, allowing a coarse whisper to escape his lips.

"Hermione."

"She's here," a voice replied and Blaise Zabini suddenly appeared in Harry's line of vision.

Looking to be the complete opposite of his best friend Draco, Blaise's longish dark hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. His blue eyes, slightly tilted, studied Harry as if calculatingly, and his skin as opposed to Draco's pale complexion, was tanned. Harry supposed Blaise had received his distinct Asian features from his mother. All things considered, along with the young man's prominent cheek bones and charming smile, his overall appearance was disarming and, at times, quite beautifully androgynous.

Although while his physical appearance was clearly a contrast to Draco Malfoy's, his personality was a definite match. His eyes though tilted, seemed to radiate that spark of bored distaste and stuck up importance. Much like Draco's. His straight back and sauntering walk merely bellowed his pride and overconfidence. Much like Draco's. His tongue quick, his deep voice often dripping with sarcasm, and his smooth hands with long fingers never far from a comb or brushing the lint from his finely pressed robes with a snooty air. Very much, like Draco's. Yes it was undoubtedly clear that the two were a pair. A match made in heaven.

What often troubled Harry, or made him curious (depending on the situation) was the fact that they weren't attached to the hip. All around the school, Malfoy made himself seen with his entourage in tow. Blaise however was hardly ever in sight. There was the occasional walking each other to class -as of late, their long strides seemed as one while they made their way to the door. They sat with each other in the Great Hall, and often beside each other in the few classes they shared, but apart from that Harry never really saw the two of them 'hanging out'. Not that he was looking of course.

"You look like hell," Blaise said with a smirk.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry croaked, trying to push himself up.

Surprisingly, Blaise held him down, and for the second time that night Harry found himself subjected to the uncomfortable feeling of having the tip of a wand pressed against his throat. This time though, he hardly cared. Lying on his back, head feeling as it was going to split in two and with a dull throbbing of pain from his right leg that he was only half aware of, Harry stared directly up into the eyes of the mysterious boy who could very well kill him on the spot. That or render him unconscious and deliver him to Voldemort. Either way, he'd end up dead and he wasn't very fond of that outcome. Neither was he fond of the fact that he didn't know if Hermione was in danger or not. So in a very Harry Potter-esque way, he ignored the pain, ignored the potential danger that constantly hovered around his life and he concentrated in glaring the bejesus at the disturbingly pretty boy that knelt over him.

"Tell me where she is." Harry growled low in his throat.

Blaise frowned. "Typical nauseating Gryffindor courage. Tell me Potter, will there ever come a time when you'll just wake up, and think of yourself for once?"

Harry struggled to push himself up, but it only earned him a 'tsk' and a firm push back. Blaise waved a handing the direction above Harry's head. "Granger is fine. Well, as fine as anyone who' just recently been possessed anyway," Blaise said.

Harry had the sudden urge to hit him, but from the dim light that illuminated the boy's face, it seemed that someone had already done so. Twice.

"What did you do to her?" Harry said in a guttural tone.

"I saved her sorry arse, Potter. And, may I remind you, yours as well. A little gratitude isn't too much to ask for. Now hold still."

"What?"

"Have you gone temporarily deaf? I said hold still, you blundering idiot. You have a concussion and your leg is torn up."

"Torn up?" Harry could see him grit his teeth in impatience.

Then Blaise brought a hand to Harry's leg and his fingers came away coated deep red.

"See this?" he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "It's called blood. Now it's not Granger's," he wrinkled his nose as he looked at the offending colour that stained his fingers and he brought out a very clean handkerchief out of his pocket. It was monogrammed. Naturally. "And it most certainly," he cleaned his fingers disdainfully, "isn't, mine."

He looked at his handkerchief with a bored expression and for a moment glanced around for a place to leave it. He daintily placed it back in his pocket, neatly folded.

"Now," he said turning his attention back to Harry. "You've got a piece of wood nearly the size of your forearm sticking out of your leg. So hold still. Lucky for you, Potter, I read ahead."

Before Harry could ask him what in the blazes he was going on about, Blaise muttered a spell. And it was as if he had dunked Harry's leg into a bucket of ice.

"Sodding hell." Harry said through gritted teeth, but a moment later the dull throbbing was gone, as was the cold. Blaise did the same with his head as well. When Harry could see properly once again, he gingerly brought a hand to his temple and wondered where the pain had gone.

Harry sat up. His leg was completely healed and if it wasn't fir the gigantic tear in his jeans, Harry never would have thought anything had happened. _Bollocks. _He thought, as he looked at the gaping hole in the borrowed trousers. _Seamus is gonna kill me._

Immediately, he pushed himself to his feet and dashed to the spot where Hermione lay. Harry fell to his knees, not acknowledging the smarting force of impact, and he brought his hand to her face; gently caressing her cheeks and smoothing her hair away from her shut eyes. Blaise had laid her comfortably on the floor and not a mark marred her skin. Though Harry soon noticed with a start that her hands and feet were bound with strips of what was left of the cloth that had covered the crate.

"What's this?" he said angrily, swiveling to look at Blaise.

"That there is your girlfriend, Potter. I know. Hard to believe, isn't it? You with a girlfriend."

"Piss off Zabini." Harry turned back to Hermione and began to untie the cloth from her limbs.

"No, see, the words are: Thank You. Come on then, it's not hard. Thank. You."

Harry ignored him and once he freed her wrists, he began to work on her legs.

"Hey now, what do you think you're doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Harry muttered.

In three quick strides, Blaise was at his back. "May I remind you that she's the reason for this date from hell?"

"It wasn't her!" Harry rounded on him and Blaise took a step back, lifting his arms in defense. Harry went back to work and Blaise stood and watched him with mild amusement etched on his elegantly bruised features.

"Tell me, Potter, how do you know that the Dark Lord is not going to open those pretty little eyes of hers?"

"He's not."

"Yes but, how do you know?" Blaise pressed on.

In a fit of helplessness and frustration, Harry managed to wretch the cloth from Hermione's leg and tossed it violently at the ground beside him before lifting his head in Blaise's direction, eyes blazing.

"And why are you here, Zabini?!" he said. "Why are you helping us? What's it to you? What do you gain from this? Is it- is it, what, a laugh? A stupid childish game of yours that you and other Slytherin bastards enjoy? Catch the Golden Children at their worst! Point and laugh at their misery! Pick them up and kick them back down!"

"Relax, Potter."

"No, YOU sodding relax, Zabini! I don't know what the hell you're up to, but I'm telling you now to either shove off and leave us be, or I swear I'll throw you off this tower."

Blaise took a step forward and haughtily glared at Harry nearly nose to nose.

"I'd like to see you try."

A hand shot out and seized Blaise's throat. With a sharp turn and a fierce shove, his back connected sharply with the stone wall. Blaise struggled under Harry's grip. He reached for his wand, but Harry tore it from his fumbling fingers and promptly threw it over the tower.

"Son of a bitch." Blaise managed to gurgle under Harry's grasp.

Then Harry kneed him in the stomach.

"How did you know we were up here?" Harry said and eased his grip on Blaise's neck slightly so as to let the other boy speak.

"You're not…the only one… who uses this tower, you wanker." Blaise gasped.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Not a good thing to be calling me names, don't you think?"

Blaise grimaced. "Didn't know you were so keen with torture, Potter. Any other hidden talents?"

"Plenty." Harry said through gritted teeth, masking the surprise he felt from the Blaise's comment. For he had just realized what he was doing, or what he was about to do.

He forced down the anger and he stepped back from the boy; his chest heaving with deep laboured breaths. When was this all going to end? Where could he finally find some peace? Harry raised trembling hands to his head and buried them in his hair as he turned away from Blaise and raised his eyes to the sky as if searching for some sort of hidden answer there. But the he realized the answer didn't lie in the skies. His gaze fell back to Hermione. It was in her. He rushed to her and gathered her still form in his arms, burying his face in her hair. Now what did he repay her with? Pain. Pain, and hardship and it all simply unfair.

He murmured her name. And he wished for her arms to wrap around him, for her hands to clasp his own and give it that familiar squeeze. He wished for her eyes to open.

Harry placed a kiss on her brow and took a shaking breath. He had her love. He knew he didn't deserve it, and yet, he knew that it was enough.

_I'll make it all better. I promise. _He thought, and in his mind's eye he could see her smile and he could hear her say, _I know._

Blaise was slumped against the stone wall, his hand resting on his neck. "Bloody hell, Potter."

Harry raised his head.

"If that's the way you thank people then I'll kindly back off from now on." Blaise rasped, then he swiveled his head to look over the low wall. "You tossed it. I can't believe you tossed my sodding _wand _over this sodding _tower._"

"Yeah, erm, sorry." Harry breathed, finding himself for the first time not able to meet Blaise's gaze. He then reached out a hand. "Accio wand," Harry said.

"What are you-" Blaise began but his words faded when his wand flew up the tower and straight into Harry's grasp. "Oh hell." Blaise muttered at the particularly surprising piece of wandless magic.

Harry tossed the wand back to its owner and it landed in Blaise's lap, for the boy was too astounded to care.

"Dumbledore is always one step ahead, I see."

Harry only looked back down at Hermione and ran his thumb along her brow. "Go on. Just tell Voldemort. It's your job, isn't it?"

Blaise was silent for a while. "Yeah." he said. "Doesn't pay well, though."

The door opened and Professor McGonagall stepped out closely followed by Ron and Luna. Ron looked at the odd display set before them before reaching Harry and Hermione's side. "You okay? Did he try anything on you, mate?" he said jerking a head at Blaise and handing Harry his and Hermione's wands, which he had found and kept safe.

Harry shook his head. "Where's Dumbledore, Professor?" he asked McGonagall and she quickly explained that the Headmaster had been called out to St Mungo's unexpectedly. Harry looked to Ron who shrugged. McGonagall conjured a stretcher for Hermione and they all took their leave of the tower.

* * *

Ron and Luna had explained all that had happened as they sat around the bed. Its occupant now quietly dozing away. Hermione had awoken briefly and all been made clear to her. She hadn't remembered a thing and she was strangely incredibly hungry. Madame Pomfrey had fetched a platter for her and explained that she was drained. The good news, McGonagall explained, was that all Hermione needed was food and rest. The bad news was she was to no longer attend any classes, as she was a potential danger to students. On the bright side, she was allowed to take her lessons in the library as long as she was strictly under guard by Ron, Harry, or Madame Pince. Her wand would only be given to her in the afternoons in the empty classroom where she would be able to practice what she had learned. Of course a teacher and either Harry or Ron would also monitor these practice sessions. Luna offered to help as well and after a heated argument in which Ron was red and Luna was calm, they came to a decision that yes, she would be able to help as long as Ron was glued to her side.

This unfortunate change of events definitely hindered the four of them and tightened their schedules, but it was needed and could not be helped. The most distraught of course was Hermione, who knew that the pressure of her N.E.W.T.S. had now doubled, her fear for the rest of the students (including Harry) increased tenfold, and also the knowledge that her predicament known to the students would cause a rift in many of the relationships she had formed over the years. The future of Hogwarts was made uncertain.

Now the three of them were murmuring quietly amongst themselves, now that Harry had finished telling them all that had happened between Blaise and himself. The former had been sent back to his room after being commended for his quick thinking. Harry had the disc in his hands and was comparing it to Ron's. The three of them whispered and nodded and Harry let the disc, now devoid of any chill, rest against the warmth of his chest.

They fell into a momentary silence when Madame Pomfrey's footsteps neared them. Harry had his hands placed on the bed and he gazed with worry at Hermione's now peaceful face.

* * *

It was dawn when she awoke and placed her hand on his. At the contact Harry jerked awake, righted his glasses and smiled.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi." he answered. "You okay?" he moved to adjust her pillows as she sat up.

"I've never been better. I'm a little hungry, but other than that I'm alright."

"Careful or you'll soon catch up to Ron's appetite."

"I don't think anyone will ever catch up to Ron's appetite." Hermione turned her head to the next bed and smiled fondly at the red haired boy lightly snoring with Luna snuggled in his arms. "Luna told me what you did." Hermione said to him, and she laced her fingers through his.

"When?" he asked.

"Last night. While you two were sleeping. It sounded beautiful, Harry."

"It was for you," he said simply and she bit back a smile.

"That was quite a lot of candles."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, I thought that too." he scratched his head and added as an afterthought, "They were Ginny's idea."

"I thought so. Luna said you were incredibly nervous."

"Did she? Well, I am wearing Seamus' pants."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "My," she said. "That's certainly something I never dreamed of hearing you say."

Harry laughed and Hermione patted the spot beside her. "Come here."

She scooted over and Harry got into the bed beside her and she wrapped her arms around him, her head resting on his chest. Harry drew in a breath. The disc pressed against his skin suddenly jolted him with its icy touch.

"Harry?" Hermione said, pulling slightly away from him. She brought a hand to his chest and gently laid her fingers on the cold surface. She looked up at him questioningly and he reached under his shirt and pulled out the disc that hung from his neck. It was still ice, and yet it was not the cold touch of a dagger pressed against soft skin. Instead, the chill was comforting, slightly alarming, a touch overwhelming, but pleasant just the same.

_So this, _Harry thought. _This is what Ron must have meant by you'd just know._

Hermione's eyes widened at the sight of it. "Harry," she breathed, "where on earth did you get that?"

"Ron gave it to me earlier. Said he has one for you and himself as well."

Hermione sat up and took the object in her hand, and gazed at it in wonder. "Where did he get them?"

"Fred and George. They found it in Romania visiting Charlie. According to Ron this isn't just the latest piece of Romanian fashion. It gets cold if someone's feelings towards you are strong."

"Really? That's amazing," Hermione said, adjusting herself on the bed and turning the disc in her hands.

"Yeah." He watched her examine the disc with the very familiar look of fascination etched on her features.

"So," said Harry, "I guess this means that you're either planning my death or marriage."

Hermione paused in her inspection and gazed up at him, her eyes sparking with amusement. "Is that so? Well, I haven't got a ring," she teased.

Harry swallowed and never broke his gaze from hers; the disc was forgotten in her hands. "We don't need a ring," he said in low voice.

Her smile widened and her cheeks turned pink. "If you want me to kiss you, just say so."

"Kiss me."

And so she did.


	20. Magnolia

Disclaimer: Any characters and situations that you don't recognize are solely mine. The rest belongs to Rowling.

Author's Notes: It is I back with a new chapter. To tell you all the truth, I nearly almost gave up on this story. My mind keeps on changing, as does the plot. The end has changed about four times, and I must tell you all that I have been switching back and forth between this one idea. Should I carry on with it? Yay or Nay? As of now I have gone with Yay. So, a tale of Star-Crossed Lovers this shall be. Now if this revelation has caused me to lose an eye from an over ripe tomato, then I am heartily sorry. But I do wish that those who remain will remain with me till the end and I do hope I still manage to entertain. Thanks to all for the reviews and the urgings to for updates. This chapter has been spliced into three, as it was far far far too long, so I'll be editing the next two and I'll have it in as soon as I can. Please tell me what you think, and thanks to all for your patience. Enjoy.

* * *

_He was a powerful, immensely attractive wizard who saved the world from evil. _

No.

_The most powerful wizard with stunning good looks and a huge bank account. _

Now that's just childish.

_Protector of humanity and a gift to women._

A little too simple for my liking.

_He disobeyed his father, dared to defy the Dark Lord and despoiled willing maidens with his dashing good looks and charm._

That's far too long and not to mention Freckles would hex my corpse for that one. Shame though.

_If it wasn't for him, the world would be in shambles. _

_And he was fit. _

_Intelligent too._

"Now that could work," Draco whispered to himself. With a whisper, the curtains around his bed post were drawn aside.

"What might work?" Blaise asked.

"My epitaph."

He repeated his latest thought and Blaise snorted. "You might want to scratch out the intelligent part," he said heading over to his trunk.

Draco contemplated throwing his pillow at him, but thought better of it since it wasn't hard enough. Pain was essential after all. Stretching his shoulders with a sigh, he got out of bed and headed to the washroom saying, "I'll have you know, without me we'd be dead by now or like the Longbottoms."

Blaise shook his head. "Not you. Your dear father would never let you become like old Longbottom senior. He'd be ashamed."

Draco paused, while getting his things. "You're right, he'd kill me. You'd be the Longbottom."

"But I don't want to be a Longbottom."

"Too bad. You fit the part being all soft and podgy."

Blaise folded his arms over his lean frame. "Piss off I'm not podgy. You're the one that's needing a cut back. What _have _you been eating last night?"

Tossing his towel over his shoulder with a snooty air Draco pursed his lips and said, "You know I don't kiss and tell." Then he smirked and shut the washroom door behind him.

The shower turned on and he paused in front of the mirror, his smile fading. He set the towel neatly onto the counter and took out his wand. Four toothbrushes were evenly spaced along the edge of the mirror, and each was labeled accordingly:

CRABBE. GOYLE. MALFOY. ZABINI.

Silently with his wand, Draco tapped his toothbrush and it quickly transformed back into its original form; a small vial filled with emerald liquid. Satisfied, he did the same with the towel and transfigured it into a thick cauldron.

"Yeah, go on Crabbe he won't be out for a while. Prince Charming needs time to fix his hair and all."

Draco could hear Blaise's raised voice from behind the closed door and he paused in uncapping the vial. Standing in the washroom wearing his silk pajamas, his shoulders rigid, his hair slightly mussed, and his trembling hands gripping the vial so tight that he worried that it might crack, Draco nearly laughed aloud at what a ridiculous sight he made. Still he made no movement and his ears strained to listen, waiting for the voices to emerge from behind the closed door. The water beating against the shower floor in its steady ongoing rhythm and the thumping of his heart straining to lash out of the cage of his chest were the only sounds he was aware of.

It was only when sharp laughter managed to escape through the cracks of the door that Draco allowed his shoulders to relax an inch, and he took a deep steadying breath.

He uncapped the vial and poured the liquid into the cauldron and with narrowed eyes he watched it simmer. From his pocket, he took out the folded handkerchief that was slipped into his hand the day before; the gold letters B.Z. stained with dark crimson.

With a charm, the blood seeped out of the white cloth and dripped into the cauldron in five drops. Pristine once again, Draco stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket, but not before he plucked the long curly brown hairs it contained.

"And he says _he _does the dirty work," Draco muttered and, with his nose wrinkled in disgust, he tossed the hairs into the now boiling concoction and stirred it clockwise for a few minutes.

"Shouldn't you be doing this in the dungeons you sly devil?"

Draco's attention snapped to the mirror. He sneered in reply.

"Oh that's quite a look for you, dearest. Have you been practicing?"

"Quiet, you."

He brought his attention back to the potion and jabbed it with the tip of his wand causing the liquid to turn a very eloquent shade of blue. The shower continued to run even as he was stirring counter clockwise and, keeping an eye on the simmering liquid, he nodded to himself.

The potion finished and now sealed back in its vial, Draco went about cleaning the room and transfiguring the cauldron and potion back to a towel and a toothbrush. The former he hung on the hook while the latter was placed deftly atop the label ZABINI. He replaced his own empty spot with the real thing.

_Right. Now then. _

There was a sharp knock on the door. Draco cleared his throat and shouted. "What!"

"Some people need to brush their teeth!" Blaise shouted back.

Draco quickly stripped off his clothes, jumped into the shower, then hopped out and wrapped the towel around his waist. He opened the door to see Blaise leaning on the doorframe and behind him Crabbe, Goyle and two others were seated on the beds tossing something back and forth between them.

Blaise pushed past Draco, haughtily plucked his toothbrush from its spot and said something about long showers and wrinkled skin. "I'll be in the prefect's bathroom." he sniffed before sauntering out the door. One of the two boys who looked to be sixth years watched Blaise's back disappear down the hall.

"What you oggling Zabini for?" Crabbe said with what was supposed to be a wiggle of the eyebrows, but looked more like a nervous twitch.

The boy gave Crabbe a nasty look. "Don't be foul."

"Maybe he fancies him," Goyle said then turned to the washroom door. "What d'you think, Draco?"

Draco in turn eyed the boy who was red in the face and then with a lazy smile he said, "Don't get your hopes up now, McLuhan. You're not his type."

Draco shut the door to the loud guffaws coming from the room and met his reflection. This time the grin didn't leave his face even after he jumped back into the shower. They would soon forget his comment and quickly go back to their game.

_Draco Malfoy. Exceedingly_ _intelligent. Astoundingly attractive. The world will never see his like again. _

There. That was more like it. Now where was the soap?

* * *

From the moment Orla opened her eyes, a bond of trust formed between the children and the wizard who had helped them. It was an unspoken agreement between the witches; they could trust him. He could help. And so for him, what followed was rather unexpected.

"Sir?"

It was strange.

"Sir."

For as long as he could remember he was always Wormtail. Had always been Wormtail. A Mr. Pettigrew he had been to his professors, but that was so long ago it seemed to be another life he had led. As for his first name only three people had ever used it. It was a stern "Peter" that often came out of his mother's mouth; a quite familiar "Peter" that slipped through Lily's lips, and it was a sad yet gentle "Peter" that had fell from Remus' own mouth on the night Wormtail had gone to his master. Other than those three he had always answered to and lived by his alias, and it seemed that on that night, on the sad yet gentle "Peter" night, it was the last time anyone was ever to call him by his birth name.

Hours after he had escaped from certain death and into the arms of a rather curious immortality, it was to be seen that he had left the boy Peter behind and was now completely, and almost regretfully, Wormtail. Therefore it was to that name he now associated himself with and answered to. No one had ever called him otherwise.

So naturally this 'Sir' business was incredibly unsettling and rather awkward, though it had a quite refreshing note to it he found. At times in the loneliness of his room he often thought of the word with a sort of alien fondness. They weren't patronizing him, nor were they choosing to be submissive or obedient. Far from it. Instead the title was used in a strangely familiar manner, as if they were addressing an older brother or teasing a close professor of theirs. It was all very confusing.

"Sir?"

When they called him that, he always never thought to answer. It was if he was testing them to see if they were truly speaking to Peter Pettigrew the man and not some delirious vision, for that was who they must be addressing. For the title simply could not be associated with Wormtail the rat, but rather Peter the wizard. It was a small hope that he sometimes allowed himself to glance at.

"Sir?" the one named Petra was calling him now.

"Yes?" he asked quietly as he dressed Orla's bandages.

"Did you bring this?" With a pointing finger she indicated the tray of food on the floor.

Wormtail glanced at the steaming plates and nodded before turning his attention back to the bandages. "Yes."

"Why?" Petra asked.

Wormtail paused in thought. Why _had _he brought the tray down? Was it an action of rebellion? No, when he had conjured the food no thought of disobeying his master had ever crossed his mind.

He knew the children were hungry. He knew the food the guards were bringing into the room did nothing to satiate the hunger, and he knew the feeling of the coarse, piercing starvation that could gnaw and scrape at your insides. No one should have to go through that. So quite naturally he thought to bring them the tray.

Was there another motif behind that? Did he need to explain to the child the sudden desire to bring them proper warm food? No. And so as he delicately traced his wand over Orla's arm in healing, he said simply in a gruff voice, "Because you were hungry."

And yes that seemed to be enough, for Petra's lips pressed into a thin line, her forehead creased in thought and she made her way to the tray, knelt and began to eat. The other two followed after little hesitation.

They never talked to him, save for small moments such as the one that had passed. He was content with that and so, it seemed, were they. He felt their eyes on him but he never returned their stare. He only did what he was ordered to do, and that was to care for the one that was sick.

He raised the spoon to Orla's parched lips and she swallowed gratefully. With intelligent and curious eyes she watched him care for her and she wondered if there was anything behind this. It had taken a while for her not to jerk her limbs back whenever he had come near, but as the days passed Orla came to accept his closeness and the sudden jerk turned into a cringe which shifted to a slight fluttering of the eyes, and morphed into the solemn look that became her greeting.

Now on the days that she found strength to speak, she sometimes whispered teasingly as if she was speaking to an older brother, "Thanks, doc." The first time she had done so Wormtail looked at her in surprise; his small eyes widening as far as they could go, which was not that far, but then his lips twitched and he silently continued with his work.

She was getting better. Now if he only had the strength and possibly the courage to do the next step. The question was would he get caught? Oh he most certainly would.

"You hungry, sir?" The one named Emma called out.

At first he had not wanted to learn their names, but only do what he was assigned. It soon though came to be quite difficult to not file their names away, and that small familiarity regretfully allowed them to seep into his skin. He briefly turned to Emma and shook his head saying, "I've already eaten."

Emma shrugged and continued to shovel the food into her mouth while Adel wiped the corners of hers with the tips of her finger and thumb. "How's she doing?" she asked him.

Wormtail refused to turn his head and look in her direction. Even after all this time he still could not bring himself to look at her and not be reminded of Lily.

He placed the warm slice of bread in Orla's hand and allowed her the moment to feed herself. Slowly, as if painfully, she raised her arm to her mouth and then gratefully bit into the steaming bread and chewed. Wormtail fed her more soup. "She's getting better," he said.

"How do you know?" Emma said, swallowing a mouthful and turning a suspicious eye his direction.

"Because she can eat."

And as if enforcing his statement, Orla took another bite, turned to her friends and gave them a very bread-y smile. Emma smirked and Petra let out an appreciative laugh while Adel wrinkled her nose in disgust. Wormtail stayed silent and waited for the girl to finish chewing before he gave her the last spoonful. Then he stood up, wincing as his knees cracked and he looked irately at the solid bare floor. He had to get some carpet in here or at least some mattresses, even if they were old ones.

"I'll come back later with your dinner."

Adel watched him go. "Not…not anytime before?" Her silver eyes were hard now and they glinted in the candle light. No longer was she the silent one who lingered away from the others and separated herself from any form of interaction. That had changed from the moment she had taken the knife in her hands. He guessed it was only inevitable for them to come out much different than from whom they were when they came in.

"No," he answered. "My master doesn't have any need for any of you for a couple of weeks."

"Why?" Adel asked. "What happened?"

"He's busy," was all Wormtail allowed himself to say before he shut the door behind him.

* * *

"Hey." Someone had trotted to Hermione's side as she patiently waited for the deserted staircase to shift back to its original spot.

"Hello," Hermione said to Eran who seemed to be struggling with her satchel. "Do you need any help with that?" she asked the younger girl as she reached to catch a book that slipped from Eran's arms. The book clattered to the floor.

"Thanks," Eran said and sighed heavily. "I'm horrendously late."

"For class?"

"Pfft, no. If it was class I wouldn't be in such a rush, would I?"

Hermione pursed her lips and sniffed. "That's not really the right attitude to have, Eran."

Eran waved her hand impatiently. "I know I know. This is my future, I should be grateful I'm here, I'm lucky and all. Don't worry, Hermione. It's only Binns' class that I'm not very fond of."

Before another word could escape Hermione's lips, Eran let another book fall to the ground and she swore loudly. Hermione bent to scoop the fallen books in her arms.

"Do you really need all of these with you?"

"Well I'm meeting a friend for some study time, so yes I do need all of these things. I'd shove them into my satchel if I could, but there's this gigantic rip and I can't seem to find anyone who could-"

Without a thought, Hermione repaired her bag. "There. I've even placed an enlarging charm so you can fit all you want in there. It won't be any lighter, but it will take the weight off your arms," she said and Eran beamed at her.

She stuffed the remaining books into her bag. "Wow, not even a bulge. You're amazing, you know that?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's a really simple spell. You'll be learning it soon."

"Yeah, what with the curriculum change, I'll probably catch a few more useful spells."

Hermione gave her a smile. "Professor Dumbledore is only being careful. It's good to know the younger students would be capable of protecting themselves if anything were to happen."

Eran nodded. "Yeah, speaking of careful how are you with the, erm, You-Know-Who stuff?"

Hermione blinked and Eran flushed. "I'm sorry. I'm such a big mouth, I shouldn't have-"

"No, it's alright. I'm just surprised, that's all. You know, you're probably the first student to ask me that."

Eran grinned. "Do I get a medal?"

"A small one."

"Works for me."

The stairs fell back into place with a jolt and Eran adjusted her straps. "Well, I'm off. Take care of yourself, hey?"

"You too, Eran, and thanks for your concern and everything."

"Anytime, and hey, you don't need me to cheer you up. You're Hermione Granger after all. Don't let the baddies get to you." Then she was off down the corridor lined with armoured knights that seemed to salute her as she passed, and once around the corner she was gone.

Hermione, clutching her own books to her chest, made her way up another staircase and waited patiently as this too shifted to another hall; the stones grinding against each other with a heavy groan. She was quite early to meet Harry and Ron in their Room of Relaxation tonight, but she thought that with the extra hour she could get some reading done. The library was no longer an ideal place for study she found as of late. What with the recent news of her "going insane" as a cost of her "being controlled by the most evil wizard in existence", (these bits were only snatches of conversation that ever so idly managed to reach her nearby ears) people found that the most important thing to do in this situation was stare. And stare they did. People found it not very hard to be obvious about it either.

Ron once told her that she should just hold a contest of her own and see who breaks the stare first. Immediately after that statement he was awarded with a nice aching lump on his head from a book she was reading. Madame Pince's roaming eyes were absent at the moment of attack. Regrettably, Ron's idea was not carried out and Hermione was forced to bare the staring eyes and loud whispers, thinking that this could be very much akin to Harry's experiences.

But all thoughts aside, she was to meet her best friends in an hour and all of their troubles were to be pushed away for the night. Presently, she wanted to only dwell on the moment at hand, as all of the troubles were becoming quite tiring and tedious.

Glancing up and down the deserted corridor, Hermione placed her hand on the doorknob and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her with a contented sigh. There were no eyes to watch her in here.

"…not very smart….should have…."

Her plan was to settle down in a nice comfortable chair and read a book until Harry arrived and she trotted up the stairs to the second floor to do just that. Browsing the shelves, she ran her finger along the spines of the books all lined up and crammed in together.

"Don't tell me…decision…can do about it…"

She pulled out a particularly thick one with loopy writing, and walked to the far corner where a chair sat by a bay window. The rows of bookshelves obscured her view of downstairs and would most assuredly hide her from view, but that didn't matter at the moment. Settling in her chair, she laid the book on her lap and opened it to the first page; her eyes feasted upon the words written. Already the noises of the outside world began to blur and fade as the book drew her in.

"You….always…I hate it when….."

Roused from her reading by the incessant voices that managed to penetrate through both the door and her skull, Hermione couldn't help but glance in the direction of the shut door.

By the sounds of it two people were arguing and she was sure that their raised voices would bring about inspection. The muffled voices grew louder as they approached the room and they seemed to stop right in front of the door.

"I don't believe this." Hermione muttered to herself. She stood, ready to bound down the stairs and out march out the door to reprimand them when the door opened on its own and a tall young man with shocking blonde hair slicked back with perfection stumbled into the room. He straightened and turned to face his assailant; an equally tall red headed girl, who marched in after him and firmly shut the door.

Neither Draco nor Ginny noticed Hermione up above them, and Hermione didn't make a move as she was too surprised by their sudden appearance. No time was wasted though and they continued their shouting match until Ginny was red in the face and Draco's eyes were narrowed slits of silver.

"What did you do that for?!"

"You said you wanted to find someplace private to talk about this, and I found us one!"

"You didn't have to shove me, Ginevra!"

"Well you should have walked in then!"

"We're not going to talk about this!"

"Yes we are! You never want to talk about anything that has to do with us so how are we supposed to fix our problems if you're always avoiding them?!"

"I'll fix them on my own!"

Ginny let out a barking laugh at this then said, "Oh, god, that is exactly what I'm talking about. You always have to do _everything_ on your own!"

"Because I'll fix it, if I do!"

"No! No, you daft idiot, it will never be fixed with just you working at it. We are in a _relationship _Draco. A relationship. And how many people are involved in a _relation_-"

"Hang it, Ginny!"

"TWO PEOPLE!" Ginny roared. "It takes two people to make a relationship work! So if there's a problem then we need _two people, _that means you and me to-"

"I'm not fucking incompetent, I can-"

"You're not sodding listening to me! I'm not saying you're incompetent! I'm saying you're an arse! You never want to talk about anything with me unless it involves snogging."

Draco's face darkened. "That's not true and you fucking know it."

Ginny's eyes flared. "Really? Are you quite sure of that?"

Silence hung over them as Ginny waited for an answer and Draco didn't give her one. The two of them stared at each other, one daring the other to speak as if it was a game, a contest. The first to speak loses!

As those long moments continued to pass, Ginny's shoulders visibly sagged and when she spoke her voice was tired, almost pleading.

"You never. Tell me. Anything. I don't know what's going on inside your head. I feel as if I'm always second guessing what you're feeling from one day to the next, and when you slip up you just pat me on the head and tell me to run along and play. I'm not a child Draco."

Draco sighed heavily. "I didn't say you were."

"But you treat me like one."

Draco didn't know what to say to this so he continued to stare at her as if she could find the comfort and apology in his eyes. All in vain it seemed, for Ginny took a step towards him as if appealing to him and said in a quite voice, "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

A pained expression took a hold of Draco's features and he looked as if he was struggling with himself. His mouth screwed up, his eyes squeezed shut for the barest of moments, his fists tight; nails digging into the palms of his hands. "I can't," he rasped.

She bit her lip furiously as her eyes welled up. "I was willing to give them up for you."

Draco knew exactly who 'they' were, and he ran agitated fingers through his hair.

"Ginny-"

"I told my mum and dad. My brothers will know by now, and I don't know what I'm gonna-" she brought a hand to her face and shut her eyes. "Oh god, the twins," she moaned in half despair, half exasperation.

He wanted to say "Fuck the twins. Fuck them all. They can say and believe whatever they want it doesn't matter, Freckles." But all that managed to escape his lips was a muttered, "Fuck them."

Then Ginny eyes snapped open, her hand fell from her face and she stared at him in disbelief. Draco couldn't believe he had said that either but there they were; the cards lay on the table, easy pickings for all to see. Now he stood with his arms at his sides and watched her lovely features of incredulity twist into anger and all he could think of were the words: _I'm sorry. _

It first appeared ignited in her eyes, deep pools of blue fire that sparked their blazing fury, before it gradually made itself apparent down the rest of her body; down to her cheeks, brushing it with rouge; down to her chest rising and falling with each breath; and down, down along the length of her frame which quaked with small tremors, arms bent at the elbows ready to take a swing, fingers splayed, feet spread apart.

"_Fuck them?_"

In one swift movement she took a step, raised a hand and brought it down fiercely upon his cheek.

SLAP! Draco blinked and his head moved a fraction from the impact.

"Fuck them?"

SLAP! Her hand whipped across his face again and he raised his eyes to meet hers.

"Is that all you can say? Are those that supposed to be your words of comfort?"

SLAP! Again. Her speech emphasized by the sharp sounds of the hand making contact with the face.

"Is that supposed to make everything better?! _Fuck them_?! Look it's ALL FIXED NOW!"

And it seemed that one hand was nearly not enough for she began using both hands, swinging wildly, and he stood there doing nothing to avoid the blows and feeling each one fall upon his cheek, his shoulder, his chest.

And the tears were falling freely now, and her hair was in disarray, and she cared no longer if she was hurting him or not because all that existed was the man who could so casually brush her aside with two words and her wonder at how in the world she could still care for him.

"You don't give a shit about how I feel!" she screamed.

"Ginny," he finally murmured, bringing his hands up to try and still her thrashing arms.

"You never listen to a word I say!"

"Gin,"

"And it is sodding clear to me now, that you don't give a damn about what is important to me."

With a sudden tug Draco held her still and she paused and held his gaze with her cold stare.

"So what the fuck are we doing?" she said, her voice now growing quiet and almost devoid of emotion. "Why all the fuss? Why don't we just end it."

Silence. The room was heaving with it, and now it was Draco's turn to look at her in complete and utter disbelief at her words.

The two stood still, the staring contest taken up once again, one disbelieving, one defiant and so the flurry of movement that happened next quiet surprised all members of the room.

"You stupid, daft, little girl," was all he murmured before he kissed her; lips muffled her cry of surprise and with that action the tension that was thick in the room broke and dispersed. Draco pulled away, his lungs drawing in air and he took a hold of her arms again as if preventing her from escaping.

"You, stupid, daft, idiotic woman. I listen to every single word you say; every syllable; every sound. Sometimes I just want to rip my sodding ears off, but that's no good because I still hear your voice in my head, and do you want to know why? That's because every single sodding thing that you have said to me is tucked away inside. Buried so fucking deep that no one, not even the Dark Lord himself can tear it out with those sharp long fingers of his.

'I know and I remember. I know that you find it amusing that I furrow my brows when I read. I know that you think noon is prettier than a sunset. I know that it makes you laugh when I call McGonagall batty, but you don't really want to laugh because it's not that funny really. I know that out of all of your brothers you love think Charlie is the coolest, the twins are the funniest, and that you love Ron the most. I know that you hate it when you have to lie to Harry and Ron about coming to meet me.

'I know that you secretly love your mother's sandwiches even though they are dry most of the time. I know that when you were a child, you wanted to fly without a broom and tried to do it once, and you failed. Horribly. But that's what made Bill get you that broom. I know that Ron and your mum never left your side then, and you secretly gave Ron your left over soup that you didn't want.

'I know that you think highly of what Hermione thinks of you and you're terrified of how Fred and George are going to think of us. I know that you don't like the fact that I tell Blaise more than what I tell you, and I know that the fight you had with Ron was the worst you've ever had, and you hated the way he looked at you, but you hate even more that he's still talking to you when you know that he has all the right to ignore your existence."

Draco's speech only succeeded in surprising Ginny even more, and she stayed silent, entranced, captivated by his voice and the words that carried and reached her ears.

She knew she was going to cry again. Draco's grip on her loosened and he slowly rubbed his hands along her arms.

"You think that I don't care. And now you want to just break off and walk away? Well fuck you, Freckles. You don't get to walk away. You're not gonna to go all Gryffindor on me and play the tragic hero. There are reasons why I don't tell you everything. Sodding hell, Ginny, there's a reason why everyone's so against us being together. I'm the baddie remember? I do the dirty work. I botched up the comforting part because I'm not any good at it, and I know it's a stupid excuse but it's the truth. So I make due with what I know.

'And what I know is that there is no way in hell that I'm gonna let you get hurt. So I keep things from you. I distance myself from you not because 'I don't give a damn' as you so eloquently put it, but because I care about you, you stupid, overly sensitive lunatic. I care about _you. _I know what and who you consider important, and so I do what I can to help them because I know that helping them means helping you. And in a way, it's as if I'm telling you everything without you getting hurt.

'The less you know, the safer you are, and I don't want you giving me any shit about how you can take care of yourself, you're independent, you're not to be coddled because you were coddled all your life. It's better being coddled. You can't be coddled when you're dead."

"I'm not going to die," she whispered reassuringly, but Draco shook his head.

"Don't say that. Everyone dies. And if you go on in thinking you're too young, too strong, too skilled in magic then yeah, you're going to die. Listen to me, Ginny. Just listen. I know you're not a damsel in distress. I know that in a fight you'll hold your own and take some baddies down. Hell, I know first hand that your bat bogey hex is deadly, but this isn't a game. This isn't exciting. You've got to let me do these things on my own.

'So don't ask me any more what I'm doing, and why I'm keeping secrets because I'm not going to tell you. As for your family and friends, yeah I know I was an arse about them. But you know what? Yeah. Fuck them. It didn't originally come out right, but it works. Fuck them. Whatever they think about us is irrelevant. It doesn't matter. Why? Because we don't care. Because we're too crazy about each other to care. You know they love you and eventually they'll come around." Draco paused and thought for a moment. "Except for Percy. But he's a wanker so it doesn't matter."

Ginny smiled and let out a small laugh, and Draco's face softened as he reached a hand up and gently brushed her tears away. "Alright? So no crying now. I'm an arse I know, but I'm a crazy arse who's fallen for you so you'll have to put up with me." Draco wrapped his arms around her and rested his reddened cheek against hers. "And if you ever mention ending it again, I'll pinch you."

Ginny pulled away slightly a playful glint in her eyes. "Pinch me? What kind of a threat is that Mr. Big Bad Death Eater?"

"Oh it's the best kind. A dab of pain, leaves a little mark, but it doesn't harm the victim overall."

"You think You-Know-Who will start using pinches?"

"I think he'll take it into consideration. Now come on then I'll walk you to your portrait."

He opened the door to an empty hallway and she took his hand.

"Sorry for shouting," she said over her shoulder as they paused in the doorway

Smiling he said, "No you're not," and he closed the door behind them.

Hermione slowly shut the book that still lay on her lap and stared out the window at the glowing moon. A second later the door opened again with a small creak. She rose to her feet and put the book back on the shelf, and then walked over to the rail that overlooked the main floor. Harry stood in the middle of the room rolling up the invisibility cloak and Ron was busy laying food on the table.

"Do you believe him?" Hermione called down to them.

Harry looked up at her. "It was quite a speech."

Ron shrugged. "Percy is a wanker."

Hermione came downstairs and she looked at the food on the table. They must have taken a pit stop at the kitchen, and Dobby had been ever so generous as usual. It seemed the Draco problem and if there was one would have to be discussed at a later date, seeing as no one was really in the mood for talking about him at the moment, and the food was on the table.

"How are your knees?" she asked as Ron handed her a slice of cake.

Ron rubbed said knees and flopped onto the couch. "Christ, they feel as if their about to break off. I didn't think I'd ever be able to stand again."

"So I take it wasn't a comfortable trip?" Hermione teased.

"Dunno if I even remember what comfort is, but Harry enjoyed it all I reckon. Didn't complain once and half way through it he got quite chummy too."

Hermione laughed and raised an eyebrow at Harry who took a seat on the floor and began unwrapping a chocolate frog. He tossed the wrapper at Ron's head.

"You had to hold onto me too, you git."

"Shh, don't tell Hermione. She's known to be the jealous one."

"I am not!"

"Erm, maybe you've blocked it from memory, but I do remember that _you're _the one who sent birds from hell to peck me to death."

"I only did that because you were acting like a prat snogging Lavendar in every inch of the school."

"Yeah, well that's what you do with a girlfriend. If you weren't jealous, you wouldn't have acted so violently."

"I was not jealous. You were acting horrid to your friends."

"That's just an excuse. I was rotten with you."

"And so I had every right to be angry."

"No, you had every right to call me a stupid senseless git, not send a pack of wild animals at me."

"They weren't a pack of wild animals. They were yellow canaries."

"Act of violence means jealousy."

"I was not jealous!"

Harry sighed as the arguing continued and he popped another frog into his mouth. "Good to know things are back to normal," he said.


	21. Author's Note: Story Recap

I know it's been ages since I've updated, so to save you the time and trouble of having to go back several chapters to decipher all the good stuff, I figured I'd just catch you all up on what's going on with this lovely little summary I have here.

If you're feeling daring and think, "pfft, who needs a summary?" then you may click to advance to the next stage. D Instead of reading this,

Extremely Long and Winded Summary

Somnium Gradior. Dream Walking. An ancient art discovered and used by The Order, a secret society devoted to the betterment of man. Originally used in the form of transfiguration and control of a Host's inner workings so as to heal whatever ailments, is now being twisted to the Dark Lord's own needs in his effort to take a hold of Hermione Granger, the one who is closest to Harry Potter's heart.

She is the Host but before the Walking can commence, a Source, a Token and Blood must be obtained.

The Token is the ring on necklace Hermione wears. On the night Voldemort had killed her parents he had taken this Christmas gift and transfigured it so that The Source's magic would be transferred into it, keeping a hold of the Host from the moment she put it on. In order to bring things back, the Source would have to be at Hermione's side and the Token placed on the Source's neck, restoring her magical essence.

Marcus Weber and Alister Collins are the Death Eaters who kidnap The Source, Petra Manalo, who must be drained of her magical energy drop by drop whenever the Dark Lord must _Walk_, and six others must also drop by drop be drained for The Blood.

Emma, Orla, and Adel are what remain of the five who were taken during the months of December to March, and Weber and Collins have one run to the castle to take the final who's blood will partake in the final stage for complete control of the host.

During the first stages of Walking, the host experiences an onslaught of voices and shadows. As time goes on the Host would soon lose sense of what is real and what is fiction, seeing people that aren't there and conjuring situations that don't exist. All the while Voldemort would have the ability to stay in her head and see and hear all that she does. Complete control of the Host is taken within her Dreams, hence the name, and it is here that they are able to converse "in the flesh". Often times these encounters in the Dream World would send Hermione into a mental state of anguish and helplessness.

There is one good thing about this though, and that is the one rule applied to the act of Somnium Gradior. The members of the The Order had stated that a member must only perform this act with good intentions. If used selfishly, total control would not be established, thus the partaker would often lose the connection with the applicant, and more often than not, Voldemort does lose control of Hermione which allows her to breath and finally tell Harry and Ron what exactly is going on. Three times Voldemort was able to attain complete control. The first was when she tried telling Dumbledore, the second soon after a Reversal occurred, and the third during Harry's first attempt at a date. The rest of the time, save for in sleep, Hermione's mind is her own, or so she wants herself to believe. For she cannot tell when he is or isn't sitting there, watching.

A Reversal, is a moment of mental connection between the Host and the Source. This often happened in the times of the Order, aiding them in their healing. This happening between Hermione and Petra, on Harry's doing (he researched, made and ground the potion into a fine powder then sprinkled it onto a flower posing as a gift. She then inhaled it, fell asleep and the Reversal began) allowed the girls to exchange information on what was going on.

After this happened, Voldemort assigned Wormtail to stay with the girls and, have them trust him so if any further Reversals were to occur, he would then report them back to Voldemort. Weber is jealous of this assignment and being the pretentious, egotistical bastard that he is challenges Wormtail, testing his anger and his gift; the silver hand that twitches and jerks.

Other new characters other than Weber, Collins, Petra and Adel, are fourth year, Eran Lot who had let slip that it was Blaise Zabini who last took out the book which had all of the information on Dream Walking (the book is now in Voldemort's possession, but was stolen by Weber on the first night) and first years Susan and Michael. The latter has developed a sort of crush on Hermione. Didi and Gogo are two house elves who were attacked by Weber and Collins on the night Petra was taken. The two are shaken now and will talk to no one.

The three discs each one for Harry, Hermione and Ron are magical objects brought back from Romania by the twins. The wearers are connected to each other, and are aware of each other's presence. They're able to tell if one of them is in trouble. Also, Ron told Harry upon tossing him the gift that, "strong feelings towards you like hate or love make the disc grow cold. So let's say you're standing around…er, Lucius Malfoy or something. You feel the disc become icy against your skin and all that so you know that he's dangerous, plotting something and whatever, or he…wants a shag."

We left the last chapter with Blaise and Draco secreting a potion, the entire school aware of Hermione's condition and a heaving argument between Ginny and Draco.

Wow, this was supposed to be a short summary to catch you all up on things, but well I tend to ramble on. Again, this is not a tale of star crossed lovers. That idea has been scrapped.

I applaud anyone who has made it to the end of this page and didn't just click to the actual chapter.

You deserve a virtual cookie.

Or a fictional foot rub.

With love.


	22. Morning: The Real Thing

Disclaimer: None of the characters you recognize belong to me.

Author's Note: Okay first of all I owe my soul to Travis for the fantastic beta and MarenKPotter for her feedback and thoughts.

And I'm sorry for taking oh so incredibly long to get this one out. Really, truly sorry. I hope you all enjoy this just the same.

This chapter and the next two following it take place in the span of a day from the PoV of different characters. Something new, I guess, that I had to try. Well anyway I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I'll have the next two out very soon. Well, as soon as my muse allows anyway. Enjoy!

Morning

**Petra, Emma, Orla and Adel**

She was walking around the length of the room, running a hand along the wall as she passed. For some strange reason, doing this, feeling the cool surface brush against the pads of her fingers; touching the stone cage that encased them in a dim cocoon, for some strange unexplainable reason this helped keep her sane. 

"Would you sit down already? Christ, you're making me dizzy," said Emma who watched Adel circle the room. With only a faint smile in answer, the usually quiet Hufflepuff never paused in her slow strolling steps. Emma was always a little testy, especially right before breakfast.

"Just shut your eyes, Em. I'll be joining her a little after breakfast," said Orla rubbing her legs. Save for a little weakness, a stoop in her shoulders and a hint of a whisper in her once proud voice, Orla seemed fine. 

"Breakfast will be here soon," Adel said quietly, wary of her voice carrying past the door and reaching the ears of the two guards at their post.

They had been moved via portkey to another location about a week or so ago. None of them had cared much for counting the days gone by in the past, for time meant nothing in darkness. It was only since the Reversal and the near escape that had made a little scratch in the casing, but once Petra had discussed what Hermione had told her, which were the reasons for their kidnapping and that people were still looking for them, the scratch had been knocked into a dent. When Orla's health began reaching normalcy the dent was mangled into a crack, but it wasn't until they were moved to another place, another cell, that they had managed to twist the crack apart and make a little window where their hope could take in gulps of air and eventually pull itself out into the open.

Things somewhat remained the same. Wormtail came in three times a day with their meals. Often he would bring a small trinket for them to spend their time with while he was in the room, then taking it back with him upon his departure. Always he would sit by Orla, wand in hand and he would go about his tasks in healing her. Sometimes he checked on the other girls. If one had a cough or a sore throat, he would be ready and their ailments healed.

They were grateful, and they were confused. Should they place their trust in this man who worked for the Dark Lord? He looked harmless enough except for the silver hand that twitched and clenched and grasped at the air, sending rivulets of sweat beading across his forehead. 

They had talked about him once the day before they were moved, and it was agreed that though they were grateful for his kindness they still knew nothing of him and would continue to remain closed mouthed in regards to matters of consequence. They would not talk to him about the Reversal and if any more happened, and they sorely hoped it would, then they'd keep that too to themselves.

And so they did what they could. They waited, they talked, and they shared their ideas. They also watched and listened a great deal more, gathering what little bits of information about their new location, but none listened and watched more closely than Adel. For she was able to gather her senses into a tight knot and focus on all that was around her; Even now, pausing for a moment at the door, her palm flat against the grainy surface, her eyes shut and darting beneath her lids. 

She had mentioned that breakfast was on its way and now all of the girls watched her. Even Emma, though complaining of dizziness a few beats earlier, found it hard not to keep her eye on her companion.

"I still don't understand how you do that," said Petra who got to her feet and made for the door. 

The room was much smaller than the last and though the walls were not as thick, without the candles the room would be just as dark as their former.

Adel continued her leisurely stroll and looked over her shoulder to see Petra in a mimicking action press her hand against the door. She watched her body go rigid in intense concentration as if she was trying to see through the thick wood.

"You're trying too hard," Adel told her and walked back to the youngest. 

She put a finger to her lips and motioned Petra to step closer to the door. There was a shuffling behind them as Emma helped Orla to her feet. The elder two stood quietly behind them and listened. 

"It's in the vibration," said Adel. "The slight pressure of their bodies leaning against the doors. You can hear it in the sound of their staffs squeaking along the floor." She moved her hand along with Petra's farther up along the door. "That's one leaning with both shoulders." She slowly moved their hands to the right. "And there's the other. He likes to lean with only the one. When he's nervous you can feel his fingers tapping down here and when the other guy is tired, and I'm guessing that's later in the day a little after Wormtail brings us dinner, he shifts his shoulders from sided to side probably scratching or rubbing aches or something. I call him Shoulders." 

Petra grinned. "What about the other one?"

"The one that taps his fingers? He's Squeaky. He fiddles with his staff a lot; scratches it on his side of the door when he's bored and squeaks it against the floor when someone is approaching. If it's a sharp squeak then that someone is important. If it's all scatchy like, then Wormtail's here." 

And it was as if she had summoned him with her words, for at that moment there was a quiet scratchy squeaking noise. It was ever so slight that one had to be sincerely waiting for it to detect the sound.

At a word from Orla, ("mattresses.") the four of them stepped away from the door. Petra and Emma helped her to her seat while Adel walked over to the far wall opposite the door as if it was her post. 

"Do you think any of this will help?" Petra asked looking to Adel who would have a clear view of the hallway once the door opened. 

"If there's another Reversal, then any little bit helps," she answered, folding her hands and patiently waiting. 

Orla grumbled over the girls' fussy attempts at making her comfortable, stopping only when Emma snapped at her to 'sit quietly you ungrateful lump.' Then the door opened and Wormtail, with the freshly dubbed Shoulders and Squeaky flanking him, stood in the doorway. He held a tray in one arm while his other hung limp at his side, silver twitching erratically. He walked in with more trays floating in his wake.

"Breakfast." was his greeting and the two men, one round and the other slight and broad shouldered, closed the doors but not before Adel managed to catch sight of a small group of men seated by a fire; three were eating out of large bowls while the other with his feet kicked back on a small table enjoyed a smoke. 

Wormtail went straight to the middle of the room where the mattresses lay and set his load down. His eyes briefly flitted to where Adel stood then laid to rest on the trays. "How are you feeling?" he asked Orla while the others went about lifting lids and pouring water into their glasses. 

"I'm feeling much better, sir." Orla answered and Emma handed her a glass of water.

"Weak?"

"Only a little."

Adel took her seat by them and Wormtail stiffened momentarily. He was suddenly caught by how the candlelight struck her hair. The colour nearly as bright as the flames sent a shock through him, pulling him back to a silly memory he often perused whenever the moment took him, much like now; kneeling there by a child he barely knew in room littered with strewn paper faded and yellowed with age, torn remains of a photograph he found under a forgotten bed, and dwindling candles which in a past life used to be bits of rubble.

Despite the grim surroundings he still managed to find himself falling back into memory, though truth be told, it wasn't very hard.

_"What do you think, Peter? Is Harry a silly name?"_

"I don't know."

"Because James seems to think so."

_  
"Ask Sirius."_

"Oh he'll only want to name the baby after himself."

There was a loud rumbling laugh from the kitchen table. "Easier though, isn't it?" Sirius said with a wink in her direction.. "That way Prongs won't have to wonder why his son looks a lot like me." 

Lily wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Now that brings quite an awkward picture to mind," said Remus from his spot by the hearth. 

"Don't encourage him."

"Only if you say please- Ah!" Remus shouted and jumped as the flames stretched for his robes.

Lily grinned and tucked her wand back in her sleeve. "Please," she said. 

Remus rubbed his arms and took a seat by Wormtail. He examined the cuffs of his sleeves and raised it for Wormtail's inspection. "I'll need to mend these now," Remus said. "Again."

"Well you were standing too close," said Wormtail.

"But it's not a very big fireplace."

"How does that even matter?" 

Then James opened the front door and stepped in. 

"Ow! Sodding pot."

Wormtail blinked and his surroundings came back into focus. Four girls sat around trays loaded with steaming food. 

"I told you to watch it," one said.

"Yeah well you could've left the lid off. You've got the mitts, don't you?" said the other and she sucked on her injured thumb.

The girl with the mitts sighed. "It's still bubbling, Emma. Just start on the one Adel opened."

"Yes, mum."

"Shut it."

Wormtail began to quickly work on Orla's arm. The girl was practically repaired, all she needed was rest and in a couple days she'd be as good as new. But what then? She'd be used once again for her blood whenever his Master called for it. It seemed that all of his hard work would prove to be futile. Unless of course he chose to follow through with the inklings of thought that plagued him, but what good would that do him? His only recompense would be a slow and painful death, and that was only if he even managed to get the four of them out of the room. But was it worth it? This was the question he often asked himself every time he stepped through those doors. Even now, kneeling there and listening to them bicker and talk of nonsense, he wondered if there was any point. He knew what would become of them if he did nothing and he was sure that they were aware of their own fate. He also knew his purpose in that room was to bring any word of Reversals to the Dark Lord, not develop an unexplainable attachment to them. 

With these thoughts in mind, he only continued to debate the consequences of his actions when suddenly he grew aware of a pair of eyes on him. He looked up and caught the stare. His silver hand twitched and jerked, but he forced himself to hold the gaze of the one he knew as Adel.

The hand was shaking heavily now; yearning to grip and squeeze and grind to dust; it shuddered with the ever blinding need to tear and thrash and sear its victim.

Wormtail fought his master's gift and clenched it in an effort to keep still, and somehow this kept the fever at bay.

"How is she?" Adel asked, breaking his concentration and thankfully bringing his attention elsewhere.

It took a moment for him to realize who 'she' was, but before he could reply Orla answered for him saying, "She is doing quite alright, though she does feel a little tired now and then. She is also wondering if you could be a pal and pass the bread, please?"

Adel coloured slightly and handed her a slice while Emma accused Petra of hogging all of the oranges. To which she replied with a quick, "I'll stop hogging the oranges if you quit hoarding the bacon."

"Can I ask you a question?" Adel said. The other two voices slipped into the background and Wormtail nodded, not looking up.

"Why do they call you Wormtail?"

A quick silence ensued thereafter for it seemed that the answer to her question, thought but never said aloud, would prove to be far more interesting than the still steaming pots of today's meal.

"Because I want them to." Was the answer he gave them since he couldn't and didn't want to go into all of the minor details. 

"Why?" 

"Because that is my name."

Emma snorted. "Your mum named you Wormtail?"

He froze for a moment in contemplation and Adel saw his lips twitch into what she summed could be a smile. "No," he said. "My father did." Then he laughed a wheezing laugh which startled them all. 

"And your mum said yes to that?" Emma said incredulously.

"My mother didn't have a choice." 

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. "That's a load of bollocks," she huffed, her eyes narrowing in that stubborn way of hers. "Everyone has a choice."

Wormtail looked at her thoughtfully. "What would you have named me then?" 

Before she could answer, Adel suddenly found herself saying, "Horace."

There was a pause then, "Horace?" 

"I like that name."

"Nah, doesn't fit."

"Wormtail is fine," he said.

"Wormtail is horrid."

"You're horrid," Orla teased. "Just let him be. He likes his name."

"Does he?" Petra said aloud though she really didn't mean to and no one quite knew what to say to that. Conversation became nonexistent for the rest of the visit.

**Hermione**

Slowly, wearily, her eyes fluttered open and the red cocoon that was her curtains greeted her a solemn good morning. There was a slight shift in the fabric as someone brushed against it in passing.

"Lav, have you seen my brush anywhere?"

Hermione rubbed the sleep from her eyes and self consciously winced when her jaw cracked while yawning. She stretched her arms above her head; fingertips pressing against the headboard. Then she sighed and rubbed the corner of her eye at a persistent bit that refused to budge and yawned once more.

"Check the second drawer in the washroom." She heard Lavender say absentmindedly.

Hermione sniffed, gathered the nest that was her hair and pushed it over her shoulder. She could hear Parvati rummaging in the drawer then say, "No. No, I don't see it."

"Hey you know, I think you might have left down in the common room by the lamp."

"Oh drat, come with me?"

"Sure, love. Just give me a minute to…pass me that pin over there? Thanks. Alright, come on."

Hermione managed to sit up just as they shut the door behind them with a soft click. She pulled the curtains aside and blinked at the early morning rays filtering into her senses. The soft light fell around her head and over her shoulders, casting her in a lovely glow, and went about the room with soft hues of pink and gold.

Early morning was when she usually felt her best. This particular morning however proved to be quite different. If the dark circles didn't go on to prove so, then surely the incessant yawning would.

Swallowing said yawn, Hermione gathered a sweater and skirt into her arms and trudged into the bathroom. Another indication for lack of sleep. Trudging. One does not trudge when one must be up and at 'em during the course of the day. That is of course unless one had quite the unsettling dream upon waking.

No, Hermione Granger did not feel at all refreshed after such a dream in which she was in the clutches of the Dark Lord posing as Harry. In fact, it could be said that she felt even more tired now than when she had finally gotten to sleep, but it was understandable as she spent most of the night fighting to stay awake and the better part fighting to gain control.

Shutting the washroom door behind her, Hermione then went about turning on the shower. She stuck her hand under the spray, testing the water then turned up the heat. "Just for now," she muttered to no one in particular and didn't mind when the mirror gave a cautioning response. Then stripping off her nightgown, she opened the door and gingerly stepped inside.

Let it be known that Hermione Granger was not one for hot showers. They made your skin dry and your hair fall out, or at least that's what her parents told her in days of old. Nonetheless, she turned the heat as far as it could go or as much as she could take anyway, and she stood there; the steam billowing about her and the not yet scalding water pounding against her aching muscles, and she took a deep steadying breath.

Nights like these called for hot showers.

The heat warmed her and made for a much needed fictional comfort blanket. A strange thought: water as a comfort blanket, but it was there just the same, and when she was done she felt, if not fully rested, then at least warmed to the bone and ready to face the day.

"Okay," she said, now fully dressed and drying her hair by her bedpost. "Now, let's grab our books and head down for some breakfast."

Months ago she would have thought it to be simply ludicrous talking to an empty room, but oh, how time has changed. Now Hermione liked the comforting reassurance of the silence that answered her and the freedom to choose her own actions.

She tucked her wand into her robes and headed down the stairs nodding a 'hello' to the girl named Eran Lot who sat at a desk in the empty common room.

"Aren't you going down to the Great Hall to eat?" Hermione asked, adjusting the strap of her satchel.

"I already have. Had to scarf everything down quick so I could finish reading this."

And she held up a thick book for Hermione's inspection. They chatted for some time until her stomach called out for better fare.

"I'll see you later then," said Eran when Hermione excused herself and stepped through the portrait hole and out into the hall.

Two second years turned to look at her. One whispered to the other and they quickened their steps. Hermione frowned but continued her pace. She wondered if Harry and Ron were still talking to the Headmaster about joining her with the group today bound for St Mungo's.

During the course of the term, the seventh years were to sign up for the group excursions to wherever their future job entailed them to be. For Hermione, who was keenly interested in Medi care, her destination was to be St Mungo's. For Harry and Ron, set to be Aurors, they had to choose from the Auror department in the Ministry of Magic or the Auror training school situated somewhere in London.

Harry hoped that Dumbledore would be a good sport and let them skip classes for a day, but all in the name of research and of course Hermione's health, for who knew what they could possibly discover from one meeting with the Petra's sister, who was now a full time resident in the hospital.

Ron just hoped that Dumbledore would fail to use his common sense and think that yeah, "Eight eyes are cooler than two."

"Eight? There is only the three of us that need to see her. That makes six." Hermione had said the night before while they trudged (it was a long day) up the staircase to their respective dorms.

"Oh you know," said Ron. "Harry. Glasses. Another set of eyes."

Hermione had given him an amused grin while Harry dutifully turned to look at his best friend with something that looked very much like confusion.

"Did you just call me four eyes?"

"I might have, yeah."

"I haven't heard that since I was eight."

"See now that's a shame. Four eyes is such a great insult, you know. Stings."

"Didn't feel much of anything, really."

"Wait till you get in bed. Have a good cry."

"Only if you won't listen."

"Now where's the fun in that?"

"Carrots." Hermione had said, breaking the aimless banter, and they paused at the landing.

"What?"

"Carrots. That's an insult."

"How is that an insult?"

"Your hair."

"My hair is red."

"It is not. It's more orange than red."

"Are you blind? It's flaming!"

"I'd say he's more of a beet than a carrot," said Harry.

"I thought beets were purple," said Hermione.

"What's a beet?" said Ron.

"No, I'm pretty sure they're red."

"What's a beet?"

"Maroon. They're maroon," said Hermione. Then turning to Ron she said, "A beet is a vegetable, Ronald. How can you not know that?"

"I eat food, Hermione. Not study them."

"Well maybe you should check what things are before you put them in your mouth."

"Should I take notes too?"

"Think of another vegetable," said Harry.

"Why do I have to be a vegetable?" said Ron.

"Dunno."

And with that they had said goodnight, and went off to bed.

Hermione now swallowed a yawn and switched the strap of her satchel from one shoulder to the other.

The meeting with Dumbledore shouldn't take very long and they would be back in time for breakfast.

She took a step off the moving stair case and walked through the doors of the Great Hall, noting that it was nearly fairly empty save for Professor Snape and Professor Flitwick who were quietly talking, and the odd Hufflepuff mechanically eating and turning the pages of their books

Hermione sat on the bench and pulled out a book and a quill from her satchel. Placing one on top of the other on the table, she poured herself some tea and flipped to a page she had marked off.

She was reaching for the sugar bowl when someone took a seat beside her. She turned and Malfoy stared right back at her solemnly. He didn't say a word and she thought it very strange that he would bother to take a seat next to her, and also a little uncomfortable that he wasn't talking. So she thought she'd take a stab at it and make the first move.

"Hello," she said with a slight question in her tone.

As if he wasn't the one who approached her, Draco lazily directed his gaze to the doors in sheer boredom, not saying a word.

"Okay," said Hermione. "Well if you don't mind, Malfoy I have to get some work done."

Expecting an answer from him but getting none she only sighed and stirred some milk into her cup.

"You know you're not supposed to take milk or sugar with your tea, right?" he said.

She managed to barely keep her surprise in check and just continued to stir. "Did you sit here so we could talk about how I take my tea?"

"No, but if you add any more sugar in there we'll soon have to."

"I don't think it's any of your business how much or how little sugar I take."

"No, but I'm pretty sure your mum and dad wouldn't be too pleased either," he said, and then visibly cringed at his words.

Hermione blinked and failed to notice said reaction.

She took a breath, and calmly turned back to her book in silence. "If you're just here to toss insults around then I'm of no use to you, Malfoy. Find someone else to bother."

She heard him sigh possibly in frustration, possibly in boredom, she really couldn't tell and frankly she bloody well didn't care.

"Listen."

And she suddenly found herself caring at the touch of his hand on her arm.

Hermione started and looked at the alien contact, then up at his face. He quickly recoiled and she jerked her arm away.

"What-"

"I'm here to apologize," he said gruffly.

"For what, calling me a cow?"

"I didn't call you a cow."

"Well, you came close to."

"Granger, don't make this any harder than it already is."

"I'm not doing anything. You approached me."

"How does Potter put up with you?"

"He doesn't put up with me. I put up with him."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Is this your apology because I really have some reading to do."

Malfoy waved a hand towards her open book. "Oh, by all means. Don't let me stop you."

"Thank you," she said curtly and all attempt at conversation withered and slumped.

Malfoy still sat by her side, reading along with her quietly. "You know, Dream Walking was already covered about a month or two ago-"

"Oh will you please just go to your table and leave me alone?" she said in exasperation.

Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, but held back and instead grit his teeth as if steeling himself for something unpleasant. Then he said, "Alright. I was out of line. Bad form and all that. I know what I said then wasn't the right way of going about apologizing-"

"It most certainly was not."

"Is there any chance that you'll let me finish?" he said then shut his eyes momentarily, silently berating himself. When he opened his eyes to look at her once more, Hermione was mildly stunned to find a semblance of what could very well be vulnerability in his proud pointed features. Or was it contrite? Whatever it was, the look changed him a great deal. It didn't so much as go so far as to humble him, but it made her interested in what he had to say, as well as trigger the memory of a very different Draco Malfoy shaking sense into Ginny and speaking of caring and craziness. So she listened with ignited anticipation and a mild curiosity.

"Right, so I was talking to Freckles and she's got this thought in her head that in order to make our relationship work, I have to attempt civility with not only her family but with her friends too."

"Really?" said Hermione with feigned surprise. "What an awful idea."

"Oh shove it, Granger. Anyway, she's right I suppose. So," he cleared his throat and shifted his weight on the bench.

"I'msorry."

"Pardon? I didn't quite hear you-"

"What are you, deaf? I said I was sorry now shut it and accept my apology."

There was a pause while Hermione pursed her lips as if in thought, then said, "Only if you apologize for telling me to shut it."

"What?"

"Please."

Malfoy made an impatient noise. "I said I was sorry, alright?" he hissed and glanced over at the Hufflepuff table, lest a stray ear were to hear his words.

And Hermione found herself holding back a smile, torn between being amused at the fact that he was apologizing, or that he was referring to Ginny as "Freckles".

"That doesn't sound very sincere now, does it?"

"Stop being a git and accept my apology."

"Apology for what?"

"You know what."

Hermione only looked at him. If they were going to end this childish feud, then they were going to do it properly.

Malfoy met her gaze then said sullenly, "For calling you names, you fussy, self gratifying know-it-all."

"And for being absolutely horrid, unfair, bullying and slightly jealous?"

"Now hang on, Granger I don't know what you're going on about being jealous. Jealous of what?"

"Apology accepted."

Draco blinked. "Well…good."

Hermione offered him a tentative smile, "Listen, I know that you really care for Ginny and this is why I'm giving you a chance. So yes, no questions asked, all things forgotten, this is our new start. Our first meeting. So," she held out her hand. "Hello, I'm Hermione and you must be Draco. I'm pleased to meet you, Draco."

Slowly Draco took her hand in his and they shook. "Well, Hermione," he said, testing her name on his lips. The sound was foreign to her ears and it all felt very strange indeed. "I don't think I've ever first met anyone who already knew my name," he said.

"Oh shut it, Draco."

"I think not, Hermione."

"We're getting along fine, Draco."

"Are we, Hermione?"

"Well, being on a first name basis is always a good start."

"Good."

"Yes."

"Right."

"Hmm."

"Well this was exciting. I should let you get back to your abominably sweet tea and three month old lesson," said Draco getting up from the bench and sticking his hands in his pockets.

Hermione sipped her tea. "Actually it's two."

"Two what?"

"Two months."

"Know- it-all."

"Thank you."

**Lavendar and Draco**

"Waitwaitwaitwait. Hang on a second. Hermione Granger is You-Know-who?"

"No. Granger is working for You-Know-Who...or...she's being controlled by You-Know-Who...I dunno which."

"I thought she was in love with You-Know-Who."

"No, that's Ginny Weasley, and she likes Draco Malfoy."

"Pasty looking blonde?"

"That's the one."

"She's too good for him."

"I totally agree."

"Poor Hermione."

"Poor Ginny."

"What's for breakfast?"

"Eggs I hope."

Friday mornings were always exciting. For one thing it was the day before the weekend, and for another it was the day Lavendar Brown received her package for the predictions column she wrote for the magazine Miss TW, which stood for Miss Teen Witch. Not a very original name but one must make due.

Now Lavendar didn't deal with death, money or love all too well, but she had a knack for sniffing out danger and treachery. Choosing a select few from the pile of notes delivered, she answered questions and sorted things out with care. 

Snatches of conversation, some interesting and many as the one above quite ridiculous, reached her sensitive ears as she made her way through the Great hall to the nearly empty Gryffindor tables. From afar she spotted an all too familiar shade of pasty white casually leaning on the table talking to Hermione, who was sipping from her cup.

Lavendar watched Malfoy gesture lazily with a hand towards her plate and Hermione's head tilted ever so slightly to the side. Malfoy nodded, his other hand fiddling with something in the pocket of his robes.

Lavendar watched Hermione say something that must have been quite daring for he looked taken aback, his cool air dissipated.

Malfoy's gaze shifted to the entrance and upon noticing Lavendar's approach he straightened and casually pulled his hand from his pocket. Lavendar's eyes narrowed and she quickened her pace. No visions struck her and yet she still wondered what the man was up to.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she asked.

Malfoy paused in his conversation, and eyed her. "I go to school here, Brown."

Lavendar couldn't help the flush in her cheeks. "You know that's not what I meant. Why don't you go to your table and leave Hermione alone?"

Malfoy smirked and with an amused, "Quaint." he turned back to resume his conversation.

Hermione swallowed the last of her drink, but before the cup could fill up again, he snatched it from her grasp saying, "Ah, look here Brown. Hermione finished her tea." And thrusting the cup under Lavendar's nose he said, "Here go on, give us a reading then." He leaned on the table with one hand in his pocket, looking ever so smug.

Lavendar knocked his hand aside saying, "Shove it, Malfoy."

"Oh come on, Brown. Here then, show us that great talent of yours. It is easy isn't it?" He brought it close for inspection. "What, you just have to look real hard, right? And oh! Would you look at that! I think that little leaf thing looks kind of like..." he moved it farther from his face, eyes squinting, still staring at the contents, "Like a bone or something. Now what does that mean, do you think? Bad breath? Bad luck?" and now he looked over at Hermione who sat with her arms crossed over her chest. "Bad...hair, maybe?"

At this Hermione laughed. "Just stop it, Malfoy. We've talked, you've had your fun. Now just go and have your breakfast."

With his pocketed hand, Draco fumbled with the cork capped onto the vial of green liquid he had made the day before.

"I swear Malfoy, if you don't get that goddamn smirk off your face..."

Draco allowed Lavendar to go on, half his mind concentrating on the important task at hand. He uncorked the vial with his thumb and let it drop into his pocket. Then he pulled out his hand, careful not to spill a drop.

He rested his elbow on the table, the vial hidden and pressed tightly to his palm. "Are you done?" he asked Lavendar.

"What?"

"Good." He transferred the cup to his other hand and gently inched the vial up against the rim. "Now how about that reading?"

Lavendar fumed.

"Malfoy, what happened to being civil?" said Hermione.

With precision and care, he dipped the vial's contents into the cup.

"I haven't called her names, have I?"

"Oh why don't you just-"

"He's going, Lavendar," Hermione said sternly with a pointed look at him.

Draco held both of their gazes, transferring the now potion tainted cup to his empty hand and placing it with a flourish onto the table. After a beat, the cup automatically filled with hot tea.

Satisfied, Draco took his leave and sauntered to his table. Lavendar took a seat and let out a cry of frustration. Hermione handed her the marmalade.

"I hate him," said Lavendar.

"I'm sure many feel the same." said Hermione, picking up her cup of tea and bringing it to her lips.

Lavendar placed a hand on her arm. "You're not still going to drink that, are you?"

Hermione rested her elbow on the table, the steaming cup still clenched between her finger and thumb.

"And why ever not?"

"Because...well, his hands were all over it and...oh you don't want to drink that, darling."

"I'm pretty sure that with his nearly obsessive compulsive habits of cleanliness, he's very capable of washing his hands thoroughly."

Hermione blew gently then brought the cup to her lips.

"Wait!" Lavendar cried and bit her lip.

Hermione looked at her in amusement, but waited for an answer.

"It's- it's just that...earlier when the two of you were talking, I saw he had his hand in his...pocket, oh my god what am I saying?" Lavendar couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips.

"Now that is exactly what I'm wondering," said Hermione.

"Ignore me. It's just tea."

"Yes it is."

"And really, I don't feel any bad energy coming from it. So." She took a breath. "It's just Malfoy being a prat," Lavendar said, picking up her own cup and lifting it. "Cheers then."

They brought their cups together with a faint clink and took a sip.

Hermione flinched and sucked in a breath.

"Still hot," she said.

"So how are you?"

"A mess. With finals coming and the applications for the schools-"

"You're going into medi-care right?"

Hermione brought the cup to her lips and swallowed. "Yes."

"Well Christ, love. It's only March."

"Which leaves me with only three months and I've just started properly revising."

Lavendar rolled her eyes. "Oh dear me, three months. So little time. Are you going to St Mungo's today for the tour?"

"Yes," she said in between sips. "The earlier the better."

"Well you'll be fine. I'm sure of it," Lavendar assured her, now suddenly preoccupied with the mound of letters her owl had dropped by her plate.

Hermione arched a brow and reached for the Daily Prophet. "No bad energy coming off me in waves?"

"None at all," Lavendar said nodding a hello to Parvati who had just come back from hairbrush hunting. "You found it?"

"I found it," Parvati said, pouring herself some milk. "It was under my bed the entire time. Morning, Hermione."

"Morning."

"Did you, erm, sleep well?"

"As well as anyone can allow, yes. Thank you."

Hermione noted the disconcerted look on Parvati's face, but chose not to say a word and instead contented herself with her tea.


End file.
